Lost Images
by EvilGu
Summary: Epilogue up! MARRIAGE LAW Hermione must marry Draco Malfoy- the only wizard that (begrudgingly) petitioned for her who is not actively trying to kill her. If only there was some loop-hole... Can the unlikely pair survive marriage, in-laws, ghosts, murderous enemies, and their own traitorous feelings?
1. Chapter 1

_Thank you for choosing my fanfic out of the literally thousands (about 15.4 thousand- I checked) other Dramione M rated options out there! I hope you're ready for a wild ride of daily uploads, inappropriately comedic Ginny, POV's of Hermione and Draco (3rd person, of course), and just a dash of Ron being an idiot. Only a little. Because he's Ron._

_This is my first finished attempt at a Marriage Law fic!_

_If you've read my past HP stuff, I'm sorry. Please believe me: I've grown a lot as a writer since then. No, I won't be finishing them. However, I have a new and exciting policy that hopefully can give you confidence about starting this fic!_

_**I will never again post a fic that isn't finished!** Yep! That means this story is 100% finished! I just take the time for one more round of editing on each chapter before posting them._

_The uploads will be daily. There may be special occasions where double uploads are in order._

_This story will contain a lot of M-rated content in later chapters, but I assume that's why you're here._

_This story is 50 chapters long, plus an epilogue. _

_I would say the main genres are Romance and Comedy, though I throw plenty of Action, Adventure, Horror, and Fantasy into the mix, too._

_Again, thanks for reading and enjoy!_

...

**Chapter 1: The Article**

"This is pointless," Ron blurted, tossing their copy of the Prophet off the table where it landed, crinkling, onto the floor.

"I think what you mean to say is that this is _ridiculous_- there is very clearly a point to it," Hermione amended, digging the newspaper out from under the table and laying it flat in front of her. She had to read it again. If she read the finalized Marriage Law one more time, surely she would see a loop-hole.

It was barbaric. She knew the Wizarding world was a little behind on the times, but besides the generally degrading Law itself, the smaller details were blatantly androcentric and chauvinistic. For example, the _Wizard_ had to petition the _Witch_ for her hand. "An eligible Witch may maintain up to three petitions for the two week interim period, upon which the final choice will become her de facto husband." The Witch could not petition whoever she chose, and no more than three applications were allowed.

"What if there are more than three?" Ron asked. Hermione didn't realize she had even reread that part out loud, but she rolled her eyes at Ron's comment.

"Haven't you been paying attention? Only three. Anything else won't be regarded as valid. A woman gets only three choices, and none of them might even be _her_ choice- ugh! Absolutely backwards." Hermione was so frustrated she almost threw the paper back to the ground herself, but her fist remained clutched around the wrinkled pages. She needed to read it again.

It wasn't without precedence. The Law was taken, almost word for word, from a document dating back to the 1600's. They had had the same problem with low birth rates among pure bloods, and an increase in squib births. The recommended fix for the problem was obvious: no more inbreeding. This had led to many pure-bloods fleeing England, only returning when the Law was revoked.

Apparently, some genius had also discovered that the highest number of magical births happened in the case of a pure-blood/muggle-born combination. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to trust the findings of a wizard genealogist from the 1600's, but oddly enough within the magical community even painfully _dated_ discoveries could turn out to be completely accurate.

Hermione sighed, kneading her forehead with the heel of her hand. Half-bloods like Harry had nothing to worry about- for now. The Ministry was only enacting section one of the Marriage Law, affecting pure-bloods and muggle-borns. Hermione suspected this was meant to bring people together after the harsh and nearly genocidal war, so she could in some ways appreciate the decision. Especially when she saw the indignant (and occasionally violent) reactions of the Slytherins as they picked up their morning papers.

The Prophet had been printing hints about the Law's enactment for weeks now, but no one could have suspected it would have gone through so quickly. They had two weeks- that was all. Two weeks, and Hermione was expected to find a pure-blood husband.

The implication for their little group was obvious.

Hermione looked over the edge of the paper at Ron, trying to be covert. He was, as usual, stuffing his face. To his credit, he did have a look of intense concentration on his face, so he wasn't just blowing this off. He was thinking. Good. Hermione wasn't sure she had the courage to breech the subject, herself…she wanted _him_ to do it. Ron was never the king of tact, and she was counting on that now. She wanted him to blurt out the obvious answer to their dilemma.

Not that she _wanted_ to get married at all, but the safest pure-blood she knew was her dear friend. After the war finished, in the summer before they started their belated seventh year at Hogwarts, the two of them had even dated for a time.

It didn't last.

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the annoyed memories of waiting for him to kiss her again, of attempting a proper date, of arguing about every little thing…

The point was, she honestly couldn't think of anyone else she _could_ marry, push come to shove.

"What can they do to you if you say no?" Harry asked, completely focused. Hermione smiled at him, happy that he was at least trying to think outside the box. No one did that better than Harry, when it counted.

"Well, it's not listed here in the Prophet, but it does say every eligible unmarried pure-blood and muggle-born under the age of forty will be receiving a letter with the full details. Here at school, the Headmistress will of course be helping us with all the details, and acting as intermediary..."

Harry shook his head, his arms folded across his chest. His eyebrows were drawn as he stared at the paper in Hermione's hands with unfocused eyes.

He had been acting like that since the Law had first been mentioned in the Prophet a month ago. It wasn't hard to figure out why, either- Harry and Ginny were still very much a couple.

"And it says we have two weeks before they force people to marry?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione nodded. "Witches can choose from those who apply, or they will be assigned. Harry… the ministry has tried a lot of stupid things in the past. Interfering in people's lives like this… it won't go uncontested. Just wait until parents start getting wind of this… if their kids are seventeen or older, they're of age and therefore "eligible." Hermione's eyes darted to the Slytherin table again. Pansy Parkinson had just spit her coffee all over her robes as her wide eyes scanned the Prophet.

"Some families that had a lot of power before the war won't be so high above Ministry Laws, now," Ron said in between bites of toast. Hermione stared at him, surprised by his insight. It was exactly what she had been thinking.

"But they still have money. Unsurprisingly, money can be a big motivator in politics. This farce of a Law won't make it two weeks… it can't," Hermione insisted. Ron was right- the more powerful pure blood families might have been able to dodge this Law in the past, but not now. Not with a Dark Mark on so many of their arms…

"Kingsly Shacklebolt isn't so easily moved," Harry managed. He was looking at his breakfast in disgust now, and Hermione realized he hadn't eaten a thing. "He seems to want to end certain pure-blood's remaining feelings of superiority, and he won't be bought off. It's the root of so much hate… I can understand where he's coming from."

"We should get married!" Ron blurted, as if the idea had only just come to him. Immediately, the tips of his ears grew very red, and students from a couple benches down looked up and snickered."I, uh, I mean… that's the logical solution, right? Not that I _want_ to marry you. I mean, not that there's anything _wrong_ with you. I mean…"

Hermione held up a hand, stopping his tumbling words. "I know what you mean Ron." She could feel a burning in her own cheeks that matched the creeping redness now covering Ron. "It… does make the most sense. I guess I was too shy to mention it myself. At least, until this whole thing blows over, the two of us can stick together. It's our safest bet."

Harry looked up, then, and Hermione noticed Ginny was making her way over to their table. She wore a huge smile as she waved, and Harry waved weakly back. She hadn't read the Prophet yet.

Just because Harry wasn't included in the Law, didn't mean it didn't a_ffect_ him.

...

Her letter came around noon. The owls barged right into their Advanced Potions classroom, a whole flock delivering letters to the large number of Slytherins in class. Several cauldrons were knocked over, their contents sizzling menacingly on the floor.

Hermione was the only muggle-born in the whole class, and she could almost feel the burning eyes of the small group of Slytherins behind her back. As if this whole thing was her idea. The downfall of their pure lines, all thanks to one muggle-born girl. Right.

She shook her head. The very idea of marrying anyone in the room was laughable. Ron would put in the application, and she would choose him, and their lives could basically move forward as usual. Just a bump in the road.

Of course, she did worry about the details that would be enclosed in the Ministry letter. Details like… the obvious reason behind this asinine law: children. God. She hadn't really stopped to think it through, but would she actually have to _sleep_ with Ron!? Probably. That was probably in the letter.

Her heart began to race as she continued on that train of thought. Children. She didn't want children. She wanted education and a respectable career. Maybe, years and years and years from now…and she certainly didn't want to sleep with someone she didn't love.

She took a deep breath. Bravery. That was the attribute of her house. She just had to open the damn letter, and be brave.

She scanned the parchment hungrily with her eyes. The new potions instructor, Professor Mulgick, didn't seem to mind much. It was almost disconcerting, having a Potions Professor who wasn't condescending and breathing down your neck the entire class. Certainly not what she had become accustomed to before Slughorn. In fact, after trying to restart class twice, Mulgick finally released all the students with a sigh, letting them go read their letters in peace.

As Hermione left the room, she noticed something…odd.

Only one Slytherin had made no move towards the door. Hunched over his workbench, his posture sulking and withdrawn, was none other than Draco Malfoy. His pasty skin was maybe a shade paler than usual, and he looked for all the world as if he were about to lose his breakfast.

This was not surprising. A forced marriage was enough to make normal people sick. But for a purist Death Eater family like his, this had to be torture. She tried not to smile at the thought. Maybe it would be good for him, to have to get used to someone who was muggle-born. Of course, the unlucky witch would sure have a tough time…

No, the part that was odd, and frankly unnerving, was the fact that his sharp gray eyes followed her across the room, silently focused until she finally stepped out the door.

She shivered as a horrible thought came to her: would some of the pure-blood boys be willing to choose a wife simply out of revenge? If they _had_ to find a muggle-born, why not a war hero they could condemn to marriage into a family that hated them? Or possibly, meant them real harm….

...

She sat on the bench, sandwiched between a Hufflepuff 6th year she didn't know and a certain pug-faced Slytherin who refused to so much as meet her gaze. Parkinson looked beyond livid- she kept switching which leg she had crossed, moving her foot in quick anxious jerks. Every time she did so, she ended up kicking Hermione's shin, and it was surely no accident.

Here were the grisly details the letter had informed her of:

Adherence to the new Law would, of course, be compulsory. Those who refuse to wear the ring which would be owled to them would have their wands taken from them and their place in the Wizarding world revoked. Hermione strongly suspected the rings would be enchanted to ensure the other five finer points were observed, as well.

The marriage would occur and be legally binding at midnight, February 28th. Exactly two weeks from today. No ceremony was needed- in fact, they didn't even need to both be _together_ at the time.

Witches could choose from Wizards who had petitioned for them, up to three. If they didn't choose, a choice would be made for them.

The marriage had to be (Hermione cringed at the word) _consummated_ within twenty-four hours of the ring's arrival. The home residence of the (again, she cringed) _couple_ would be decided based on income and family holdings.

The marriage would be ongoing until at least one child was born, at which time they would be granted a divorce if they petition for one. However, there were scores of nice tax breaks and incentives for those who chose to stay together afterwards… fat chance.

And, at that moment to Hermione, the last and most important detail listed:

Petition requests open up at exactly midnight on February 14th.

Today. Petitions had been open for _hours_ and Hermione hadn't even known about it.

This was why she was now trying very hard not to cry, throw up, or beat Pansy Parkinson with her own leg as she waited outside Headmistress McGonagall's temporary intermediary office. Only fifteen minutes after she had secreted herself away in her room to read the Ministry's letter a house elf had appeared with a great "pop!," informing her that her presence was urgently needed at the intermediaries' office.

Of course, the elf was gone before she had a chance to ask where the office was, exactly. House elves tended to leave her presence really quickly after all the years she had spent threatening to give them homemade socks and hats…

By the time she had found the make-shift office near the Great Hall, there was a line. So, she waited.

And thought.

And worried.

The only reason she would be called here was if there was something wrong. Someone must have petitioned for her. She held out little hope of it being Ron already- he wouldn't have a chance to work on the paperwork until after classes. In fact, Hermione was sure she would have to write up most of it herself, or risk him getting something wrong…

It didn't matter. She would just refuse whoever it was.

She didn't hold out much hope of this just being a "pep talk" kind of meeting. There were a lot of girls in line, but certainly not every pure-blood and muggle-born in the school. And just girls… no Wizards to be found. This was definitely about petitions.

Pansy was next, and she squeezed through the office door before the last girl could completely leave, shoving her into the door frame with a little squeak. The room was, of course, magicked against sound when the door was closed. But before the door could fully shut Hermione could hear the tirade building from the mouth of the Slytherin.

"Now see here- I already have a betrothal from the day I was born! You can't possibly expect my family to void-"

And the door shut. Silence.

Hermione hadn't actually thought about it before, but she supposed pure-bloods were used to arranged marriages. She had little doubt who Parkinson was betrothed to… probably the stuck up boy she had brought to the Yule Ball. Malfoy.

Hermione couldn't help a small sound of disgust from escaping her lips, causing the Hufflepuff next to her to flash her a puzzled look.

Malfoy wasn't all evil. She remembered his face, the night she had been tortured by Bellatrix. His aunt. He hadn't lifted a finger to help, but he hadn't looked particularly pleased with himself either. A true Slytherin: Not always the bad guy, but not willing to risk his neck for the losing side, either.

His mother, however, had saved Harry's life. She had done it for her own reasons, of course, but still…

Hermione didn't think Malfoy would go so far as to petition for her to hurt her. That was _proactive_ evil, not the exact brand the Malfoy's went for. No, this meeting certainly had nothing to do with that strange look Malfoy had given her earlier. Her dark thoughts were just the result of her needless worrying. No way would Malfoy stoop that low…

Pansy stormed out of the office in a huff, all but hissing in her fury. She aimed a quick searing spell at a nearby suit of armor, blowing off its head with a loud "bang!"

Everyone jumped, and the Slytherin looked a little pleased with herself, smoothing down her robes and moving off down the hall with a deep calming breath.

Then, it was Hermione's turn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Petition**

"I… I don't understand," Hermione managed, a sentence she wasn't sure she had ever had to utter in the presence of an educator. And it was a lie. She understood. She just didn't _want_ to.

Three petitions had been made for her. The maximum number. And none of them were from Ron.

"Miss Granger, your case is undoubtedly a special one," McGonagall continued, her lips pursed and her hands folded on the desk in front of her. "And by special, I mean someone coordinated this."

Hermione started. The Headmistress was being very blunt, but of course she was right. "Three pure-blood families? Or are you saying it's a Death Eater collaboration? Is this a trap?" There were many suspected Death Eaters who didn't make it to their court dates, and probably many more that remained undiscovered…

McGonagall stared at her for a long, hard moment, considering. Then, she said something unexpected. "Mr. Malfoy's petition is the only one I can assure you is safe."

Hermione's mouth gaped open as she struggled for words. She had heard what McGonagall said, but the words didn't make sense put together in that order in a sentence."I don't understand," she repeated lamely.

McGonagall stood up, walking towards a nearby window. It was a cloudy, dreary day outside, which seemed to match the mood of the majority of the older student population. "Many people are interested in the safety of those who defeated Lord Voldemort, especially when word of this Marriage Law and its safety implications came about. Our Minister of Magic included."

"Are… are you trying to tell me that _Kingsley Shacklebolt_ wants me to marry Malfoy?" Too much. This was too much to take in.

McGonagall gave her a small, tired smile. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that. We do know this much: The Malfoy family is in no way friends with the remaining clusters of Death Eaters. In fact, their participation in events leading to the end of the Battle of Hogwarts has earned Lucius and Narcissa several assassination attempts."

Hermione stared. Just how powerful a presence were the last dredges of Voldemort's minions?

"As far as regular society goes, they are a family that once had a very respectable name that has been dragged through the mud. In the end, they wouldn't harm a hair on your head. They wouldn't dare."

"I… you don't know that."

McGonagall stared, raising her eyebrows. Before she could say anything, however, Hermione interrupted.

"Unless there's something else you're not telling me."

"Miss Granger, you have three choices. There is Theodore Nott... Nott's father is still on the run, though we have evidence to suggest he was one of those who attempted to kill Lucius Malfoy. Harringer is thirty years old and wasn't booked as a Death Eater because of "insufficient evidence." He doesn't bare the Mark, however the Order has informed me that he was indeed responsible for several muggle murders during the year of Voldemort's reign. They don't have hard evidence, but I was told quite firmly to keep his proposal from going through at all costs."

Hermione was silent, listening. Nott, Harringer, or Malfoy. She was caught between a rock and a hard place, where her only hope of escape was a boy who, frankly, _disgusted_ her with both his attitude and treatment of her over the years.

But as she had been thinking earlier, he wasn't _evil_.

"Is there more? You must have another reason why you would suggest Malfoy…Nott might not be so bad, right? Maybe he doesn't have contact with his father…"

McGonagall's face made it clear that she suspected otherwise. Hermione sighed, and was about to leave the room in the same fit as Parkinson when McGonagall spoke again.

"There is more. I would suggest you go and speak to Mr. Malfoy yourself, though, for further information." She grabbed Hermione's shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Such familiarity was very uncommon for the elder woman, and Hermione was shocked still. "Be brave, Miss Granger, and always ask questions. Those are your best traits."

...

Find Malfoy. Right. She would just walk up and say, 'Hey, sweety! About that marriage proposal…'

She smirked as she walked down the halls, envisioning the look on his face if she said that. Or rather, the look on his smug Slytherin friend's faces.

No, she would be good. She had heard the reasons why she should choose Malfoy, but she still had no idea why _he_ had chosen _her_. For the good of his tarnished family name? Seemed a little extreme. There had to be more to it.

She didn't have any more classes for the day, so she took a deep breath, steeled her courage, and made her way down to the dungeons. She barely knew the path… in fact, the only reason she knew where the Slytherin Common room was at all was because of what she had read in _Hogwarts, a History_. Harry and Ron were rubbish at giving directions, and she certainly wasn't going to ask _them_. 'Hey, Ron. Since you were late proposing to me, I'll probably end up living at Malfoy Manor. You know, the place where I was brutally tortured on the dining room floor…'

No, her agonized brain was going a bit far. It wasn't Ron's fault. He had no way of knowing that three people would maliciously petition for her on the _very__ first day_.

The dungeons seemed pretty empty, so she expected she would be waiting a while outside the door. However, when she had almost reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room she heard footsteps behind her and amused snickering.

"Pansy's got her panties in a bunch now- she's downright dangerous," said a voice Hermione didn't recognize. She stood, not sure what she should do, and watched as the group came closer. She felt distinctly like she was doing something wrong, invading the dark damp place where the Slytherins lived, and she didn't want to get caught.

She was about to dodge into a classroom when she heard a familiar drawl that gave her pause.

"Right. Like any of us want our families' future polluted with that filthy blood. Pansy fails to realize that we _don't have a choice_." His earlier horror seemed to have dissipated. He spoke matter-of-factly, to the point where he sounded like his usual pompous self and not the grim sulking boy staring at her in the classroom. "Throwing hissy fits won't solve anything."

It made it easier for her to be brave, hearing his voice like that. She could stand up to a challenge.

She waited for him to round the corner, leaning casually against the wall and crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture she hoped didn't look defensive. When his group of three did come into her line of sight, she could see Malfoy, an unknown younger Slytherin, and Theodore Nott.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled when she remembered that he, too, had petitioned for her. McGonagall thought he had nefarious intentions, and she wasn't about to second-guess the Headmistress.

She steeled her nerves, and when the group seemed to completely _not_ notice her from a few feet away she stepped closer to the torchlight and directly into the path of the boys. "Draco Malfoy," she said simply, enjoying herself more than she'd like to admit as the smile was quickly wiped from his face. "I think we need to talk."

...

Ignoring Nott and the other Slytherin entirely, she walked in the opposite direction down the hall, clearly expecting Malfoy to follow her. When she didn't hear his shoes tapping behind her she turned back, scowling. He owed her an explanation. Her eyes flew to his entourage. Nott was staring at her… no, he was studying her, his eyes trailing up and down her body. It gave her goosebumps, that look.

"Malfoy?" she asked, anger beginning to seep in as the three Slytherins stood silent.

"What's this little mudblood want? Yuck. What poor Wizard's gonna get stuck with her frizzy head?" the younger Slytherin said with a sneer. The gesture was disgustingly familiar- it was obvious he had copied it from his older classmates- namely Malfoy.

"Oh, I don't know, Cartier. She's a big _hero_ afterall." Nott put a sarcastic spin on the word "hero," his thin lips pulling up into a disconcertingly pleasant smile. "Even if she's not much to look at."

If this slimy group of skinny Slytherins thought they could make her feel self-conscious, then they had missed seven years of Hermione growing her thick skin. Though she didn't miss the way Nott's tone could be conceived as threatening…

She rolled her eyes, keeping her hand nonchalantly close to her wand. "Malfoy?" she said again carefully, "Do I have to cause a scene?"

He looked positively alarmed, and Hermione wondered if he took her to mean she would tell his friends the truth or attack him. Which option was more terrifying to the boy? He shook his head, whispered something to his friends that sounded suspiciously like another insult about muggle-borns, and followed on her heels down the dark hallway.

Once they were well past the common rooms and the two boys, Hermione pulled up short and grabbed the doorknob of the nearest room.

"That…" Malfoy began to say, but it was too late.

Hermione was hit full in the face with a broom handle as it fell from what was now clearly a supply closet. She jumped back quickly, grabbing her nose. "Ow." She managed, pouring all of her frustration into that one word.

The proposals, the Slytherin's comments, Ron's tardiness… all things she had pretended didn't faze her. Add in one broom accident, and she was full to the brim with problems and they had no choice but to leak out the corner of her eyes.

Malfoy stood there, frozen, while Hermione waved her wand furiously and slammed the broom back into the closet so hard she heard the noise of many other things topping over and clattering onto the floor. She shut the door before it could all fall out, hot tears still leaking out onto her face.

She was looking so… so weak and stupid and girly in front of the horrible enemy who had all the power, now. Because she really didn't have a choice but to marry him, now did she? She didn't have a choice, and no matter what she was just a joke.

She whirled on him, daring him to laugh.

He didn't. He didn't exactly look concerned either, though, as Hermione felt a trickle of blood dripping down her lip from her nose.

She pinched her nose, pulled out her wand, and murmured a quick blood clotting spell. It was something that she had researched and had come in handy during the days of "nosebleed nougats." Some kids would lose the second half of their candy and be stuck bleeding all over the halls…

"Are you always this clumsy?" Malfoy finally said, snapping out of his stupor and squaring his shoulders to stand to his full height. He was rather tall, Hermione noticed, but she did her best to not look intimidated. That's what his act was all about, afterall- intimidation.

"Are you always a complete prat?" she countered childishly, wiping furiously at her tears. He would think they were tears of pain- at least she wouldn't look weak.

He scoffed, his confidence coming quickly back to him. He led the way to a room across the hall, holding the door open. "This is what an _empty_ room looks like, Granger. Try not to hurt yourself again- your face wasn't a prize to begin with."

Trying to muster up what dignity she had left, she walked into the room past him, ignoring the fact that such close contact made her want to go for her wand. How could she possibly entertain the idea of _marrying_ someone she couldn't stand to be in the same room with? She didn't want him near her, and yet here she was, alone in an abandoned room in the dungeons with him.

Of course, if it came down to it, she could take care of herself. If he went for his wand, she'd have him turned into a trout before he could twitch.

The two stood apart from each other for over a minute without speaking, Malfoy by the door and Hermione leaning on an old desk at the opposite corner of the small room. It seemed like the pattern of awkward silence would stretch on forever, when Hermione finally worked up the courage to ask him her questions.

"Malfoy," she began, "I have a few things figured out, but I need some help with the details."

"Details?" he asked with a sneer, folding his arms over his chest. "Why should I take the time-"

"Shut up Malfoy. _You_ petitioned for _me_, so don't make it seem like this was my idea. You are going to listen to me, and you are going to answer my questions, because you owe me that." She took a deep breath. "First, I'll have you know I have been given no real choice in the way of marriage prospects. I have no choice but to choose you, and oddly enough I think you know that."

His bravado slipped away, and once again he looked like a scared little boy. He leaned against the wall, holding his stomach like the wind had been knocked out of him. "Don't…" he started, but Hermione wanted to finish her piece first.

"I also know, at least in part, _why_ you did it. Of everyone eligible for you to petition, I'm the one you dislike the most. But I'm also the one with the more positive reputation, am I right? I'm Harry's friend, I helped take down Voldemort, and your family is somewhere in the gray zone where everyone from both sides hates you."

Malfoy's eye's flashed. "We can't all be stupid, suicidal…"

"You didn't want to kill, but you didn't want to be killed either," Hermione said complacently, making a soothing hand gesture. "I got it. This attitude, however, hasn't made you any friends in the new Ministry. So, _somehow_, you got the idea… no, I _know_ where_. Your father_ gave you the idea to petition for me, to save face."

"You don't know anything. You really are just a know-it-all, Granger. You pretend to understand everything and everyone around you, but guess what? People aren't books, and you don't understand me." He said it quietly, still leaning heavily against the wall by the door. "I don't… I don't want this, Granger. That should be obvious."

"Of course not." Hermione tried to sound soothing. It was obvious that her biting tone was not getting her anywhere, and she blamed her hotheadedness entirely on that damn broom closet. She was embarrassed and she was lashing out with her words, but with someone as prideful as Malfoy she had to be tactful. He wouldn't tell her a thing if she kept talking about his family. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to figure things out."

"Figure things out on your own. Accept my offer if you want. Or, better yet, _don't_."

"It's between you, Nott, and some guy named Harringer-"

Draco's head snapped up, his sharp eyes meeting hers for the first time. "Harringer? They seriously don't have enough on him to put him in Azkaban?" Draco gulped, looking shaken. There was an old stool near him, and he took the opportunity to sit down on it. He looked up to the little half-window by Hermione's head, the green lake-filtered light making his skin look sallow and sunken.

He had seen things during the war. Things Hermione was sure would make even her experiences pale in terms of horror. But unlike her, he had done nothing about it. Nothing to stop the torture, the murder…

"If you have evidence that could convict him…" she started, and Malfoy jumped as if she had disturbed him from a deep thought.

"Evidence? What? No… I don't know anything," he answered, a little too quickly. "Look, I don't care one bit about what happens to you. Most likely, you'll have a shining future riding on the coat-tails of Potter's success. He'll probably find some way to weasel you out of this…"

Hermione let out a small disgruntled noise, her eyes narrowing. So many things were wrong with that sentence. She was about to point out all of the flaws when Malfoy said something that made her pause.

"…but don't marry Harringer. Or… or Nott. Dammit."

"So you _do_ know something about them."

"No, I don't."

She rolled her eyes. "Either you think they'll outright _murder_ me or you've fallen desperately in love with me. So which is it Malfoy?"

His eyes grew wide, and he looked at her like she had just declared herself empress of the moon. "I don't… I can't tell you… yuck."

Yuck. That about summed up the whole situation. "The feeling is mutual Malfoy, but we have to at least be cordial to each other, here. Why are you protecting them? I thought… I mean, McGonagall told me…"

Malfoy blinked. "I'm not protecting anyone. I just don't want to give anyone another reason to go after my family, okay? You want answers? I'll give you answers, mudblood. It's called a plea bargain- you ever hear of it?"

"A… plea bargain?"

"Do they not have law in the Muggle world, or do they all just guess a number from one to ten to decide if someone goes to jail?"

"Yes, I'm aware of what a plea bargain is Malfoy. What do I have to do with it?"

"Ha!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "You have everything to do with it! Do you think I put in that proposal last night, eagerly awaiting midnight to send off my owl? My name was already on the list to petition for you last August, during my very own Death Eater trial. I pled guilty, signed the proposal paperwork, and got off without having to go to Azkaban. "

Her blood ran cold. The whole year… he had known. He had known the Law was coming, and he had known she would be told his name was on the list.

"But… but why!? Why _you_…"

"I ask myself that very same question every day. Why me. Well, let me explain it as simply as I can, so I won't have to repeat myself. The Ministry wants bad wizards like me to publicly and happily wed good little witches like you to promote a new mindset of _togetherness_. The past should be forgotten, we should all stick together in these troubled times, blood status doesn't matter… the usual propaganda. The Law itself is about the birthrate, but _our_ situation was an idea proposed by certain voices in the Ministry that were convinced my family's salvation and your own relied on this little match up. All I had to do was apply- if you chose someone else I was off the hook." He flashed her an angry look. "Not going to happen now, is it?"

"So… they were lenient on your charges because of this?" She doubted they would actually send a seventeen year old boy, one who had never actually been accused of any murders, to Azkaban. But then again, the hunt for Death Eaters was a veritable public frenzy of wild accusations and speedy harsh trials. Maybe they would have…

He rolled his eyes. "Primarily, yes."

She was angry. If her safety had been the ultimate goal, people who were supposedly "concerned with her protection" could have had Ron apply early. But no, this was all just a political scheme to hook up two high profile people from very opposite sides of the war. "Propaganda indeed. I don't like being a tool."

"Neither do I."

"Nott and Harringer had this planned. They sent in their owls at midnight," she said, not needing to make it a question.

"Along with at least ten other remaining unconvicted Death Eaters, I'd wager." Malfoy snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. "I shouldn't be talking about this. In the end, we have no choice. It's all on paper now- in two weeks, you'll choose me. Don't worry- Malfoy Manor's a big place. With a little luck, we'll rarely have to ever see each other after Hogwarts."

'_Except to have sex._' Hermione's mind whispered to her, unbidden. It was such a horrible, disgusting, thoroughly disturbing idea that she began to breath heavy, the walls seeming just a little closer to her than before. She felt light-headed. She needed to get out of there- she needed to breathe.

"This… this is not over," she managed to say. "There must be a loop-hole in the Law. There must be something we can do to get out of this… if I could open just one more spot for Ron…" She had to get out of that room, and back above ground. The stagnant air was running out.

"Well, now, there's an idea. It won't work, but that'd be great by me if it would. I'd get off the hook without-"

But that's all she heard as she darted past him out the door, almost running down the hall in an effort to escape the dank room, Malfoy, and the possibility of their horrible future together.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I live in Korea, and I realize my usual upload time blows. It's the middle of the night for those in the States, and by the time everyone wakes up my fic falls down the page. Not a good way to get hits. So, I'm going to start uploading chapters when I wake up in the morning (which should be about 6-7pm central time). That means you get Chapter 3 a little bit early today! Yay! _

**Chapter 3: The Plan**

To what _should not_ have been her surprise, Hogwarts' library did not carry a plethora of tomes on Magical Law. However, through some careful cross-referencing and research into law-related bibliographies, she was able to compile a list of books and articles that she wanted to get her hands on. Maybe, in one of the twenty books she had scribbled onto her parchment, there would be answers. Some of them dealt primarily with the old version of the law, and she wanted more details than her ministry letter had revealed.

If she could find any of them. She did have some experience with the limits of her school library, however, and in the past she had made use of owls to purchase books from Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmead, and of course Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. If they didn't have the books she needed, they were usually pretty prompt in getting them for her. She didn't have much money saved up- the exchange rate from muggle money to galleons was absolutely abysmal this year. Her parents had given her her usual allowance for necessities, but of course as a seventh year her text books had set her back a bit.

She had a moment of weakness, wondering if she could ask Malfoy to pay for it. This thought quickly vanished as she imagined how extremely embarrassing that would be. Sure, it was his problem too, but Malfoy enjoyed tormenting two kinds of people in this world: Muggle-borns and poor people. She didn't want to add to his list of excuses to be a prat. She wasn't poor- she just didn't have much wizard money on her at the moment.

She clicked her tongue as she sent a letter off to the two respective bookshops, wondering how much they would quote her for the law books. They probably wouldn't be cheap… but if there was one thing Hermione could always rely on, it was studying. Research really could solve most problems, despite what Harry and Ron usually thought.

...

Three days. That's how long it took her to find the books, purchase them with the last of her coins, have them delivered, and read them. And she had come across exactly the kind of loophole she was looking for.

The problem? It would take connections to shady Healers, copious amounts of bribe money, and cooperation from her… _intended_.

Ugh.

If all went well, at the very least she wouldn't have to touch the boy who had caused her so much hell throughout her school days. Her plan did not get them out of marriage, but it did get them out of their wedding night.

She hoped.

Now she just had to track down Malfoy- again- and try to get a decent, mature discussion out of him. She would have to keep a level head and not take any of his bait. His nastiness was just part of being Draco Malfoy, and she was perfectly able to ignore whatever quips he had for her. They had more important things to talk about than how much they disliked each other's company.

It took two hours of waiting outside the Slytherin Common room entrance before someone finally entered the door. Thankfully, it was a tiny first year, a boy who had obviously not yet acquired the skill for looking down his nose at people, and she was easily able to convince him to carry a message for her. Even if she was a Gryffindor, she was a returning seventh year… and quite a famous one at that. The boy nearly fell over when she spoke to him, agreed to get Malfoy with a squeak, and slipped quickly past the door before she could give him an actual message to take to his senior Slytherin.

She sighed, resuming her position across from the door, her arms crossed and her head resting against the cold stone wall. This was probably going to take awhile... Malfoy would enjoy keeping her waiting.

No sooner had she thought this than out from the door stormed a flurry of green and black robes. His pale face looked positively mortified as he met her eyes. He shook his blond head and started walking past her, not acknowledging her with words.

"Hello? I need to talk to you!"

"Not now Granger."

She narrowed her eyes at his retreating figure, and quickly sprinted towards him, keeping a couple paces behind. "Yes, now. Right now. I actually would think you'd be happy to hear I have good news pertaining to our… situation."

Malfoy threw her a glare over his shoulder, continuing his rapid pace down the hall. "Not. Now."

She stopped cold, and Malfoy didn't even seem to notice. She could feel her temper rising. She was supposed to stay cool, to maintain her composure and talk to him like the adults they now were.

But that wouldn't happen if she couldn't get him to stop and talk to her!

"Sorry, Malfoy. I wanted to know what color napkins you wanted at our WEDDING!" she said, her voice rising in volume and echoing throughout the hall. "Since you PETITIONED for me." She was all but yelling now, and Malfoy turned swiftly on his heel, clutching his chest like he was having an attack. "I thought-"

He jumped forward, slapping a hand on her mouth and silencing her as his movements pushed her up against the hard stone wall.

This was the wrong thing to do.

"Listen, you dirty excuse for a-"

He didn't make it far into whatever admonishing insult he was planning. Hermione swiftly pulled her wand, stepping sideways out of his reach and flinging a curse at him faster than he could blink an eye.

At first, he just looked shocked. Nothing appeared to have physically happened to him from her curse, but his facial expression changed quickly as bees started to pour from his mouth, their angry buzzing somehow bringing Hermione back to her senses.

Right. Level headed. Calm.

With a deep breath, she cast the counter-curse before Malfoy could start screaming. Screaming would probably make the bees angry. The mass of buzzing creatures coming from his mouth diminished quickly at a wave of her wand, and she was rather impressed with how well she had performed the counter-curse.

Draco coughed, dislodging the last of the bees, and the swarm made its way down the hall in the direction they had just walked from. Malfoy held his throat, his eyes wide with fear as he stared at her.

"Do I have your attention, now?" Hermione clipped. "Because I really do have information that could help us." Us. She never wanted to refer to the two of them as an "us," in any sense, but there it was.

Malfoy seemed to remember himself, and stood up tall again, glaring at her. She noticed he was still clearing his throat a lot, however, as he said, "Did it ever… ahem… occur to you that I wouldn't want to talk in the dungeons? There happen to be _people_ down here, you know. People who could make my life miserable."

"So, instead of just saying, 'let's talk somewhere more private,' you decided to ignore me and assume I'd follow quietly?"

"I should have known better. You're never quiet, Granger." He sneered, then his face turned inexplicably red. He leaned against a wall and started to cough and hack, and finally a last lone bee buzzed from his open mouth, swirling around his head. "Fantastic," he muttered sarcastically, shaking his head.

"Look… I should have been more discreet. The last thing I want is _my_ friends finding out about this… arrangement until they absolutely have to. So I understand where you're coming from on this. Where would you suggest we meet when we need to… talk?"

He cringed, and Hermione rolled her eyes. He didn't want to talk at all in the empty hall. With a quick flick of her wand she cast a muffliato spell, and Malfoy seemed to relax- marginally. She did notice him gripping his own wand a little tighter though- just in case.

Malfoy shook his head. "I'd rather not talk to you _at all_. What's done is done. I made a trade- I have to marry you in order to avoid Azkaban. I _think_ it was worth it. Maybe." He shook his head. "But that doesn't mean I have to be in your presence more than necessary."

"Of course not. Trust me, the feeling is mutual."

"So, there's nothing to talk about." He shrugged. "We have three months of school left after this law comes into play, so we don't even have to live together yet. And when we do, you'll have your own wing of the house. More than you could ever hope for," he said, his tone making it obvious that he thought he was being generous. She narrowed her eyes, but stayed silent. "We'll never have to come in contact again."

"Not that I don't find these sweet, lovey-dovey talks intriguing, Malfoy," Hermione said, when she was sure he had said his piece, "But I would rather not have to... _come in contact_ with you even once." She was sure her face was bright red at her implication, and Malfoy's features also began to darken as he looked at a spot on the floor.

"Obviously." He answered simply.

She took a deep breath. "Well, I might have a way for us to… get out of our 'wedding night' obligation."

His head popped up, and he stared at her. "Three days. It's been three days and you think you've somehow outsmarted the Ministry." He rolled his eyes. "You really are full of yourself, Granger."

She found extreme irony in Draco Malfoy uttering those words to _her_, but again she avoided making comment.

"So, if there's even a small chance we can avoid... unpleasantness, you won't even hear me out?"

He blinked down at her, and she wasn't sure her words had gotten through to him until he finally nodded. He looked like he was holding back several retorts, himself, and she was pleased when he managed to keep them from bursting out of his sharp mouth.

The two walked upstairs and down several halls without speaking. In a moment of clarity, Hermione realized they hadn't discussed where they were headed, but almost instinctively they were both walking side by side towards the room of requirement.

It really was the perfect option for secret meetings, especially since the option Hermione had found bordered on illegal.

The minute she opened the door she knew she had made an incredible oversight. For a witch so smart, she surprised herself with how often she overlooked the glaring details.

The room the two of them entered was now a library. The Room of Requirement, sensing their need as they walked by, had equipped itself with row after row of books on magical law, a comfy seating area, a coffee table, an espresso machine, and a couple of desks.

"What exactly where _you_ thinking about?" Malfoy asked, taking in the room.

"How we needed a place to discuss the Law… I guess it felt my need for information, too. Wish I had thought of this a before I bought those law books…"

Malfoy frowned down at her. "Law books. So, I was right that you've presumed yourself able to outwit every adult Wizard at the Ministry in three days. Of course, that should be nothing for a war hero such as yourself." His words were dripping with sarcasm, but Hermione decided to willfully take it as a compliment.

Hermione sat down in one of the comfy chairs by the coffee table, opening her bag to pull out the book she needed. When Malfoy made no move to sit down as well, she looked up at him and smiled. "Have a seat. It might take a while for us to work out the details."

"Details? Granger, I don't know what you have up your sleeve, but it won't work." His shoulders sagged as he continued to stand awkwardly by the door. "Nothing will work. We're both going to be stuck with people we hate for a long time, so let's just accept the inevitable."

She frowned. She had a problem with several things he said in that sentence, and as kind as possible she said, "I don't just accept bad things that happen. And Malfoy, I don't hate you."

She hadn't expected him to look so surprised. His eyebrows almost hit his hairline at that, and she suppressed a grin. She ventured to guess that people didn't often say those words to him. For his whole life, people were probably either kissing his butt or wishing him a lot of pain. He didn't see that there was so much in between.

"I don't like you, but I don't hate you. I try not to hate someone unless they've done something to particularly deserve it, and only then when I have enough evidence to support their crimes. At least, since Professor Snape…" She looked down, studying the cover of the book in her hands. "The three of us hated him, and in the end we didn't have all the facts. Hate is a horrible emotion, and frankly I'm done with it." She looked up, and was surprised to see the look of rapt attention on Malfoy's face. He looked like he was hanging on to every word, and there was no hint of malice or cynicism in his expression. "The facts I have about you are not nearly enough to form such a strong opinion of you. You've been cruel to me and my friends throughout our years here, but you're not a murderer. You're not the one who tortured me. You're not the one who cast the fiend fyre in this very room…" She shrugged, her speech petering out.

And Draco just stared.

...

Draco, in that moment, had really, really wanted to call "bullshit" on Granger's little speech. She didn't hate him? She should. He hadn't tortured her, no, but he had done plenty of things during the war he wasn't particularly proud of…

Of course, as she said, she didn't have all the facts.

He somewhat appreciated it, actually, that she wouldn't judge his character based on speculation. It was noble, it was open-minded, and it was so sickeningly Gryffindor.

He put on his best sneer, shaking his head. "Well I…" hate you. That's what he should have said. It would make the guidelines of their 'working relationship' so much easier for her to understand. He didn't want to be her _comrade_ against an unfair law. He just wanted her to leave him the hell alone as much as possible.

On the other hand… he was so tired of hate. Hate had comprised most of his young life. Fear and hate and false faces like the one he was putting on right now. And he was so tired.

He could feel his face fall, his proud up-tilted chin dipping. What did it matter, anyways, if he just gave in to her annoying upbeat world view? "I don't hate you. You, personally. I did, but I don't anymore. I don't particularly want to put in the _effort_ to hate anyone. You're not worth it."

To his surprise and extreme annoyance, the bushy-haired girl brightened considerably, a huge grin breaking out on her face. "Good. Then we can try and take care of our mutual problem like normal, civil human beings." She reached over and patted the chair next to hers, and with a great roll of his eyes he accepted his fate, plopping down next to her.

"Now, I've been researching cases from the first Marriage Law in the 1600's. As you probably know from History of Magic, the law didn't last very long back then. I can't imagine things will last long now- ideas about human rights have changed at least a little since back then, even in the Wizarding World."

Malfoy snorted. Her mind was polluted by muggle ideas- did she have any idea how Wizarding Law worked, anyways? Or did she just wake up one morning, buy a book, and assume she knew everything about the subject?

Probably, that was exactly the case.

"In 1650, only two years before the Law was officially repealed…"

"And thirty years into it…" Draco mumbled, and instantly wished he had kept silent. Granger smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"So you did pay attention in Professor Bin's class! I thought I was the only one. Then again, your test marks were never _too_ far down the student list."

Draco ground his teeth, disliking the insulting reminder that she was, academically, smarter than him. "I'm not an idiot, Granger. And I was trying to point out that this Law could span half our lives."

He was happy to see her grimace at that, tapping her fingers distractedly on her book. "Yes, well… one step at a time. As I was saying, in 1650 there was a case of two newly of-age students who appealed to the Wizengamot about an unusual circumstance. Um… this is where it gets a little awkward, so please bear with me."

Maybe it was the "please," but Draco found himself nodding and listening quietly.

"It seems the girl, upon her required medical exam… there's a physical required before the Marriage Law deadline, you know that part, right? Anyways… it turned out she would never be able to have children, and that was what the Law was all about, right? The court couldn't just let her slip by the Law, though. In the interest of fairness, they still required the couple to be married, and follow all requirements set forth by the Law. Except," she held up a finger triumphantly, "the more intimate moments. In other words, the marriage didn't have to be consummated." Her face scrunched up at the word, but she maintained her triumphant pose. "You see, Wizarding Law looks at sex as a means to an end- children. Nothing more. So if she couldn't have children, there was no point… it would be a futile exercise that neither party were particularly interested in with each other. Hence: The perfect loop-hole."

"Are you saying you can't….?"

Hermione blushed, a light pink smeared across her cheeks. "No, not as far as I know, at least… I mean, that's the part where this plan gets a little… less than ethical."

Draco shook his head. He couldn't believe this was her big plan, her big revelation that she had to drag him away for. "You think this… solves our problem?"

Her lips formed a thin line, and it was clear she was not amused. "I do have a plan to make it work. The rest will be exactly as you said- we'll never have to see each other."

"But," he said, irritation prickling inside him, "We'll still be married. I'll still have to marry you. You really think one night of mutually awful sex is the worst part of this whole thing?" He enjoyed the fact that her blush spread, her hand coming to her mouth. "I mean, it's not the end of the world. The real problem is that _you'll_ be my _wife_. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Do you?" He was pushing it, he knew. He had broken their little truce very quickly, but he couldn't help himself. He didn't hate her, but he still found her repulsive. To have to admit she was his wife… no other pure-blood could be in a worse position. True, in the eyes of the masses adding her to the family would be a good step towards rebuilding their name, since she was one of the war heroes that had killed his father's boss. But amongst his own peers… it was social suicide.

Damn Law.

"I… I can't believe how selfish you are. You think _you're_ getting the raw deal?" She didn't yell. She spoke very quietly, flipping through her law book absentmindedly, pretending to be absorbed in something on its pages as she blinked rapidly. "I have to live in that… that place. I have to have your last name. Your father's last name." She wiped at her eye with a single finger, clearing her throat. "I might even have to have your child. And you think _you're_ the victim…"

He drew in a breath sharply, baring his teeth as he spoke very clearly. "That. Won't. Happen. There is no way in hell we're having a kid, even if it does get us out of this ridiculous situation a little sooner. I won't have a child like… like you."

She shook her head. It seemed she was able to hold back her tears, and Draco was relieved- he didn't like crying. He had seen enough crying.

"You're an asshole," she managed, again not yelling. She sounded so calm her words were rendered almost meaningless. "But I'm relieved, in a way. In any case, I think we can both agree it's worth it if we can keep our marriage… platonic. I really do feel that the Law will be repeal in a short amount of time. If this were happening to any muggle community, there would be protests by now. It's an outrageous violation of our basic human rights."

Draco sighed. She was right on one point- what she had found was better than nothing. "Fine. What do you propose we do?"

"Does your family happen to have a loyal physician? Someone who would be willing to help you out?" she began, and Draco instantly understood her plan.

"Yes. For the right price. Healer Judith would be more than willing to fudge your exam results."

Hermione smiled. "My first time cheating on an exam."

Draco just stared at her. Did she seriously just make a joke at a time like this? The girl was unhinged. "Right. But this absolutely cannot be traced back to me. If something goes wrong, I can't have bribing a Healer to break the Law on my record. I'll go to Azkaban for the minimum one year sentence, that's for sure."

"I'll take care of everything. Just give me copious amount of gold and point me in the right direction."

He stood, and was halfway across the room when he turned back to the Gryffindor girl. "I'll send you an owl with the details and the… copious amount of gold." He smirked. Her humor wasn't all tasteless. "But actually… have you even accepted my petition yet?"

She shook her head, the smile slipping again. What an emotional train wreck. He supposed that was pretty average for a teenage girl, though.

"No," she said.

"Holding out hope they'll let Weasley fill you up with babies instead?"

She glared at him. "You're crude. But yes, I'd prefer becoming a Weasley to becoming a Malfoy."

"And I'd prefer pretty much anyone other than you."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So, I found a mistake in how I listed this fic (thanks to a faulty capcha on the site and a lack of reviewing skills by me), so I solved the mystery of "why is the traffic in here so light!?"_

_When I look back at my old fics, I cringe. I had so many mistakes and plot holes and... yuck. Lots of yuck. And yet, I had so many reviews waiting for me every day! It bolstered my confidence, and helped me to learn and grow as a writer._

_I hate to be a whiny fangirl, but where is the love/hate? If my fic is bad, for the love of all that is fandom tell me so I can do something about it! If my fic is good, for the love of all that is fandom tell me so I can feed my ego! It is hungry after such a long writing-hiatus! . _

_Lighterised a__nd annaea__: You the real MVP! Two reviews, and it's enough to keep me going! Thanks, and I hope you find the rest interesting too!_

**Chapter 4: The Secret Marriage**

She would wait until the absolute last minute to make her decision. Not that there was much to decide. Even if she wasn't generally creeped out by Nott, she had been warned off him by two people. Malfoy wasn't a great person, but he probably didn't actually mean her harm. She would rather stick with the monster that she knew than the unknown.

She had to keep that little flutter of hope in her heart that maybe, just maybe, the Ministry would make an exception for Ron. She didn't love him, but she could be happy with him. They would argue, he would be childish, and she'd be frustrated by his disinterest in higher learning, but they could make it work. She adored the Weasleys, and chances were good that they'd even be living in her own house with her family.

But with Malfoy, everything was wrong. She couldn't be happy with him, in that house where so many atrocities were committed. He said she wouldn't have to ever see him, but she doubted that very much. His family had obviously pushed him to agree to this, and they would want to take advantage of her hero status to build their reputation as "reformed Death Eaters." She had no doubt that the two of them would have to see each other sometimes, to keep up appearances.

Not that she would _have_ to agree to such things.

It occurred to her, then, that there was one silver lining to this whole thing: Lucius Malfoy was not going to be a problem. He'd been sent to Azkaban, she remembered, but she wasn't certain how long his sentence was. Probably not as long as Death Eaters who participated in the final Battle of Hogwarts, but still longer than she expected this Marriage Law to last.

She made her way down to breakfast- she had had a hard night. She just couldn't sleep, wondering what other answers the Room of Requirement library might hold. She had limited time to study, though, unless she skipped classes in the coming weeks… she hated to do it, but she might have to. Learning all she could would be the only thing that could sooth her.

Harry and Ron were already at breakfast, the two boys curiously early. They both looked up at her as she entered the Hall, then continued talking to each other in low voices.

She walked up to them, feeling worried. What was wrong now?

"Hermione!" Ron hissed, pulling her down to sit by him. "I'm so sorry! I'm just… I don't know how to tell you this…"

She waited, her heart beating fast. What could possibly upset him this much? He rested his head in his hands, not meeting her eyes, and spoke very quickly. "I sent the owl in late. I know I was supposed to send it that night, but I sent it the following morning, and now my petition was rejected, and I got a letter from the ministry saying you already had three offers and Hermione I…"

She put a hand on his shoulder, forcing herself to smile and speak calmly. "Ron. It's okay. You were already too late the morning petitions were being accepted." She turned to look at Harry across the table, fixing him with a meaningful stare. "Many offers were made for me, starting at exactly midnight by people who knew this was coming."

Ron looked up, alarmed, and Harry looked around them quickly, leaning across the table towards her. "Hermione…" He began, but Ron interrupted.

"Who? Who petitioned for you!? Will you be okay? How can they _do_ this!?"

She shook her head. "I really, really don't want to talk about who right now. Let's just say that if there's no way out of this, at the very least there's one person on the list who isn't trying to kill me."

"To… kill you?" Ron said, looking towards Harry. Harry didn't seem surprised.

"That's why so many offered for you so quickly- unconvicted Death Eaters and supporters, most likely. You're the only one of the three of us who could be hurt by this Law," Harry said, explaining for Ron's benefit.

Hermione nodded. "That's exactly why this sexist Law… oh, nevermind. Friends at the Ministry made sure there was another option in advance. I'm perfectly safe, though I wouldn't say I'm happy."

"Hermione," Harry tried again, looking back and forth between his two friends. "You don't have to do this, you know."

She blinked, for once completely stumped by her friend's words. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, again shifting his eyes around and lowering his voice. "You can _leave_."

"Leave?" Ron whispered, the trio all leaning in on the table to form a close circle of hushed words. "If they catch you, they'll snap your wand!"

"There are worse things…" Harry said, looking extremely serious.

"The Law can't last forever," Hermione said, thinking. "I suppose if you could lay low in another country until it's over, you'd be home free." She looked up. "Oh, but Harry. To leave everything? What if I'm wrong, and it lasts thirty years or more?" She knew, looking into his eyes, that he had already made his decision. He had made it a while ago, before the Law had even been passed.

"I… I have a confession to make," Harry muttered.

Ron gasped. "You're going to tell her finally?"

"Tell me what?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide. The boys had a secret that she wasn't privy to? That annoyed her.

"Okay don't be mad. Only Ron knew about this. And Ginny, obviously." Harry took a deep breath. "A month ago, when the Prophet first started mentioning the Law, we took things into our own hands. Ginny and I got married. We've been married for a couple weeks."

She gaped at him, her mouth working like a fish.

"Don't be mad! We didn't want to let too many people know about it- it was a precaution, in case the Law was passed. In reality, we wanted to wait… if the Law had been thrown out the window, we would have just pretended everything was normal until we were ready to have a real wedding. But it passed, and it turned out our precautionary wedding was really for the best."

"So… Ginny isn't eligible for the Law?"

"Nope," Harry said, unable to keep a grin off his face.

"So you're not going to run away together and hide for the next thirty years?" She asked, happy that she had been wrong.

He shook his head. "We don't have to. I was seriously talking about _you_, Hermione. Ron can choose someone else, but you don't really get a choice at this point. If the three men who applied are all shits, you can leave."

She shook her head. How could she just leave all of her friends? How could she risk losing her wand? How would she continue her education?

"I'll be fine."

"But you won't tell us who it is," Harry stated plainly, giving her an annoyed look.

"No. I'll tell you who it's not: Some 30 year old murderer. Also, not Theodore Nott."

Ron cringed. "Yikes. Wouldn't take much to beat those two options."

Hermione sighed. No, it didn't take much. Her choice only had one thing on the other two: he wasn't secretly plotting her doom. She hoped.

...

Draco Malfoy shook as his hands clutched the letter from his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was the one person left in his life he felt he could completely trust. She had always been a very loving mother, protecting him at all costs. She was also a very gifted socialite, and her charm and grace had done a lot in the past for their family's reputation.

Which was why Draco didn't immediately send an angry letter back to his mother telling her that under no circumstances would he go through with her idea.

He knew it was for the best, and he understood why she wanted him to do it. He could almost hear her voice grow sharp and commanding as he read the letter, saying "_I know the circumstances are not all we hoped for, but we must make it appear otherwise. I will take care of all the planning. Just ensure Miss Hermione Granger is in attendance_."

He knew very little about Granger, in reality. She was a stuck up little know-it-all, who thought he was only slightly less than actual evil. She valued him as much as someone might value a recuperated criminal- she pitied him, he knew, and that was the only reason she didn't hate him. Her robes, while not second hand, were always a little frumpy and her hair was always out of place. He knew for a fact that most Slytherin girls spent hours making themselves presentable in the mornings- would it kill her to look like less like a wild creature? She would have to make herself presentable if she was to become part of his family.

Part of his family. The thought still sent shivers of revulsion down his spine.

He wanted to pretend that Granger's find hadn't been impressive- and in fact, their wedding night really wasn't his biggest worry. But it was nice to know the two of them wouldn't have to degrade themselves like that. He was happy for her plan, and only too happy to send a bag of galleons and Healer Judith's contact information.

The Law did in fact require a physical, and Madam Pomfrey and a few Ministry-sent Healers would be working from Hogwarts to that end. But if someone wanted to go to a private physician, it was well within their rights. This could actually work.

He had just sent off his owl, which had swept right up to the Gryffindor Common Room in their tower, when another owl had landed for him. He knew it was a Malfoy owl- they bred their own speedy stock, and the beast was almost twice the size of any other owl in the barn. It also clearly wore a leather band around its neck with the family crest, and delivered the letter from his mother right into his hands.

Why was his mother pinning this on him? Why couldn't she coerce Granger into attending on her own? Was his mother somehow under the impression that the two students had formed a bond of camaraderie and friendship over the past _four days_? Surely she wouldn't be that naïve. But it wasn't above his mother to _feign _naivety to get what she wanted, and what she wanted was a huge, expensive wedding with as many guests as their ballroom could hold. Which was a lot, when it was expanded.

This was embarrassing enough without his mother making sure every old Wizarding family on her contact list knew that her son was marrying the "Granger girl," as she eloquently put it. Not only was her son not a Death Eater, he was practically family with the people who stopped the Dark Lord!

He hated social politics.

Now how in Merlin's beard was he supposed to get his bride-to-be to comply? The Law specifically stated that a ceremony was not necessary. This was a contractual marriage, not something to celebrate. She would most likely hit him, or curse him again when he asked.

He had to ask. The thought sickened him. He, the once proud heir to the Malfoy name, now had to politely ask a frumpy little muggle-born pest to marry him at a public ceremony.

...

Hermione sat in Potions, trying to focus all her attention on her brew. It was turning out to be well below her standards, but how could she concentrate when _he_ was in the room?

She was just glad her two best friends didn't opt for the Advanced Potions class this year. She wasn't sure she could act completely normal.

She usually didn't spend a lot of time thinking about Draco Malfoy. Yes, he was mean. Yes, he ended up being responsible for a lot of trouble in their sixth year. But overall, he was more Harry's rival than her own. She hadn't cared enough about him to think about him.

But now everything was different. She had to care about him, at least to the extent that she needed to know more about the kind of person he had become. Would he really just leave her alone? Was his word any good? Would he expect her to pay back that bag of galleons he had sent to her window last night?

She didn't know enough about Draco Malfoy to form a solid judgment, and without fully understanding his character she didn't know how to handle him. There was no doubt he would be a part of her life now, however small that part might be, and she needed to understand exactly what that meant.

"Miss Granger," Professor Mulgick said, snapping her back to reality. Oh god. Had she really just been dazing off, staring at Malfoy?

The Ravenclaw girl sitting next to her gave her a funny look, and she assumed the answer was "yes."

"Are you feeling unwell?" the older witch asked, hands on her hips. "You are in unusually bad form today. If you add that sliced Norg Essence your holding, you'll end up losing your eyebrows."

She stared down at her hand, horrified. Indeed, she was cutting Norg Essence on her board, and not Belladonna root. How was it even possible to mistake the two? "I'm sorry Professor… I'm just…I…"

"Of course she's in bad form today," the Ravenclaw girl, Selvina Fawcett, said. "All the muggle-borns and pure-bloods are a crap-shoot today." She shot Hermione a smile, and she knew she shouldn't take it as an insult.

Although Hermione Granger was not one to accept any kind of stress as an excuse to fail at her academic tasks.

Professor Mulgick frowned down at the Ravenclaw. "I'm fully aware of the situation, but this is an advanced class- a mistake can mean a trip to Madam Pomfrey or Mr. Kimen's Coffin Emporium." She sighed, looking around the room. "If any of you can't focus on your potion-making, please see me after class. We'll find some essays for you to work on for the next week and a half. I won't go losing students my first year on the job!" She patted Hermione on the shoulder lightly, sighing. "Miss Granger, I don't think your potion can be salvaged into something worth keeping. Please clean up and go get some rest."

"I, uh…" She had never been asked to leave a classroom before. Ever. "I can start over…" But she knew there was no time.

Her potion wasn't _that_ bad.

"I didn't ask for a negotiation. I asked for you to leave."

Hermione tried hard to keep her emotions in check. This was almost _worse_ than when she first read about the Marriage Law in the Prophet. She felt like she wanted to cry, but she didn't want to be the student who cried because she had to leave Potions class.

She cleaned up quickly with a few muttered spells and gathered her books. Selvina gave her an encouraging smile and shrugged, as if to say, 'What can you do? No big deal.'

It _was_ a big deal. The Ravenclaw's eyes were not the only ones on her as she hurriedly left the class, flinging her bag across her shoulder and trying to hide her face behind her hair. Her Professor was right- she wasn't level-headed enough for Potions right now. But it was still embarrassing.

She wondered what Malfoy was thinking. He was probably thoroughly amused, nudging his friends and pointing at her retreating form. She didn't look back to check.

...

"Yeah, you should have seen it. That smart-ass Gryffindor was sent right out of the room. Think she's been cheating all this time? I mean, how could someone in an advanced class screw up a potion like that?"

Draco wasn't listening to his friend's conversation at dinner. He didn't find the event particularly note-worthy.

"That's a big difference right there- have you seen any Slytherins losing their cool about this Marriage Law? When we get mad, we try to fix the problem. We don't let it… emotionally damage us beyond making a simple potion!" Pansy added, grinning from ear to ear. She appeared to have completely forgotten about the fits she had been throwing only a couple days before.

"What, exactly, do you plan on doing to 'fix' the problem, Pansy?" Draco asked, moving his food around on his plate distractedly. He didn't have much of an appetite lately, for obvious reasons.

She looked mildly annoyed at his question, and tossed her hair over her shoulder with a huff. "Well, for starters, father managed to track down a few muggle-borns who have the trained ability to act like proper Wizards, thanks to a decent upbringing. It'll have to do."

"So, they're rich," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes.

Zabini snorted. "Doesn't matter how rich they are- you can't train a mudblood to act like a proper Wizard, Pansy. It's inherited."

She flashed him a glare, her dark eyes shining dangerously. "Well, I can't _have_ a proper wizard, now can I?" she snapped, her eyes slipping over to Draco. "If I have to marry a muggle-born, it might as well be the best stock they have."

Draco nodded, readily agreeing with her. He no longer yearned for the kind of world his father had always wanted; a world where muggle-borns were not allowed to do magic, and pure-bloods were given their rightful place in the world in the best jobs and education. He knew the price for that world was much too steep. The personal beliefs of proper Wizards did not outweigh the suffering of many innocent people… Draco never wanted to see another person tortured as long as he lived. It was one thing to talk about such a world, but when the action began he found that he was unable to stomach the dirty work required.

However, that didn't mean he was suddenly overcome with a deep personal understanding of the muggle-born's plight or anything. He still knew there was a difference between muggle-borns and pure-bloods. If there wasn't, then what was the basis for this Marriage Law in the first place? If the Ministry wanted to pretend that blood status didn't matter, then why make a law that _depended_ on it?

In any case, Draco certainly would have chosen differently if he had been given a choice. Hermione Granger was everything muggle-born that he despised… her eager attention in class and show-off attitude just proved that she was trying to cover up her true nature with double the effort of the other students. It was pathetic.

He chanced a glance over at the Gryffindor table, and sure enough she was there, eating with the same two people she always sat with.

All at once, unbidden, he remembered what her scream sounded like, echoing throughout the elegant halls of his home.

He shivered, overcome by a sudden nausea. He pushed away his plate, feeling disgusted.

...

"Hermione," Ron said, reaching for a second helping of mashed potatoes. "What happened with Potions today? Ernie Macmillion said you actually were asked to leave class."

Hermione groaned, stabbing at some stray peas on her plate. "It's nothing. I just wasn't feeling great today and I botched a potion."

Harry frowned, but stayed quiet.

Unfortunately, Ron did not. "Not feeling great? Ernie seemed to think it had something to do with the Marriage Law… said the Professor is going to let those eligible off with just essays for the next couple weeks?"

"Ernie Macmillion has a big mouth," she muttered under her breath. "Okay," she said out loud, "maybe I'm feeling a little stressed. Like I said, I have an option on my list that isn't deadly, but he's still not a friend, or anything remotely close. In fact, he's awful. But hopefully this marriage will just be a fact on paper that I can safely ignore."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "I don't think that's how it works…"

"Oh, you know Hermione!" Ron said, grinning. "I'm sure she has some brilliant plan up her sleeve."

She smiled. "Actually, I do. Sort of. What about you Ron? Who will you petition for?"

"Better hurry, or it'll be the Yule Ball all over again," Harry added, and Hermione felt a sudden swell of jealousy. Harry would be happy with Ginny, all because he had taken precautions before all of this nonsense. Why didn't Ron and her get married, too?

Because, unlike Harry and Ginny, they didn't love each other. It wouldn't have been worth the risk.

"For your information, I already have sent in a petition. Just before dinner, actually," Ron said, trying to sound confident despite his reddening face. "She's, ah, a Hufflepuff." He nodded towards the back of the Great Hall, and both Hermione and Harry turned to look. "The girl by Susan Bones? Her name is Mildred Grew."

"That's… uh… an interesting name," Hermione tried. To her surprise, when she spied the girl, she was actually quite pretty despite her unfortunate name. She had soft brown hair that was cut short, high cheekbones, and a rather nice smile. She was also incredibly short… Hermione tried to imagine what she would be like standing next to Ron and smiled. She hoped the girl would choose Ron… he was an honest, kind-hearted guy and it pained her that she hadn't been able to love him, herself.

Maybe she should say something to her? Give Ron a little push? Yes, she would make a point of doing that sometime this week when Ron wasn't in the room. She didn't want to hurt his pride, afterall.

"Oh, that was fun," said a frustrated Ginny Weasley as she plopped down onto the seat next to Harry. No, make that Ginny Potter. Witches always took their husband's last names.

Harry gave her a puzzled look, so she explained. "I was confronted by five different boys today asking my permission to send in a petition for me. When I explained that I wasn't eligible, they were so confused… but I didn't tell them why. Don't give me that look Harry- I won't tell anyone until we graduate. That was the deal."

"It'll be pretty obvious soon," Hermione said.

"Mom's going to kill you for not telling her," Ron said with a grin, and suddenly his face fell as he thought of something. "Is that something guys should do? Asking first?"

Perhaps because she was distracted by the small fluttering paper object that landed on the bench next to her hand, she answered without thinking.

"None of mine did," Hermione said, at the exact same moment that Ginny blurted out an enthusiastic "Of course, Ron!"

Everyone looked right at Hermione, and she hated seeing that burning curiosity in their eyes. She wasn't ready to tell them the awful truth yet. She shrugged. "Then again, I guess Death Eaters aren't known for their manners."

Ginny paled. "Death Eaters? All three?"

"Well, obviously not convicted… at least, not the ones who want to kill me. If so, they'd be in Azkaban."

"But the one you're choosing _is_ convicted?" Harry asked quietly. He was far too sharp lately, and far too close to the truth.

"I'll just save that pleasant surprise for later." Hermione said, abruptly standing up. "I'm going to bed early…"

She walked away from her gawking friends, the still fluttering origami bird clutched in her fist.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: When writing about the origami bird I had this image in my mind of Draco saying, "Once, I did that ONCE. Now every fangirl on the planet thinks it's a character attribute!"_

_Also, thanks to everyone who took the time to review! It's really encouraging, especially at the beginning of a fic! I actually spent about two years, on and off, writing this story. _

_I agree with one reviewer about Dramione Marriage Fics: Sometimes they can move a little fast or seem OOC. I have edited this thing at least 10 times trying to, specifically, keep Draco from getting weird. Please let me know if the characters ever seem to develop too fast. This is how I, personally, see Draco after the war. I think he'd still hang onto his values and beliefs, but somehow, at the same time, he would understand that what happened because of those beliefs was wrong and should never happen again. Because he's an asshole, but he's got a soul._

**Chapter 5: The Healer's Oath**

"I must say, you have a pretty fancy way of sending notes," Hermione said as Draco walked into the Room of Requirement. She was sitting in the plush red chair, a pile of law books open in front of her. She had arrived about two hours early for their meeting so she could research a little, but she hadn't made much progress.

Draco grunted in response, sitting on the edge of the other chair and looking extremely unhappy. His hand slipped into his robes, and without thinking Hermione grabbed her wand. She didn't take it out, but she kept her fist around it as a precaution. Draco rolled his eyes and produced an envelope embossed with gold swirls and what could only be the Malfoy family crest. "Please. I'm so scared." He said.

Hermione frowned. "Maybe you should be."

"What, because you're really good at casting curses when Wizards aren't ready?"

Hermione shifted her eyes over to him. It was a ready effort not to roll her eyes to the back of her head. He was lounging, now, giving her a self-satisfied look as he tossed the letter in the air and caught it.

Boys. They really were fundamentally all the same. "Are you seriously thinking you could best me in a proper duel, Malfoy?"

"What do you think, Granger?"

Now she did roll her eyes. "Just count yourself lucky that you'll never have to find out- I hate dueling."

Draco unceremoniously shoved the letter under her nose, and she reached up, grabbing it. He pulled out his wand for real and pointed to the coffee maker, pouring a cup for himself while Hermione opened the letter.

Before she was able to get past the thick paper and delicate filigree gold design to read the letter, she realized her name was at the top. "What the hell is this, Malfoy?"

"It's a wedding invitation from my mother."

"Is… is she getting remarried?"

Draco spit out some of the coffee he was sipping in a coughing fit, managing to glare daggers her way even as he wiped at the brown liquid on his robes. "What the fuck do you think?"

Hermione looked back to the letter and started reading. When she was finished, she careful folded it back up, returned it to its envelope, and placed it on the table. "I apologize- I didn't mean to offend you," she said, thinking carefully about what she would say next.

The letter was an invitation… to_ her own wedding_.

"I thought the plan was to let the marriage happen in writing only."

"Yes, well, my mother had different plans."

"I see," Hermione said, staring at the invitation sitting on the table. "Why is that?"

"The primary reason my family thought I should apply for you, other than my plea bargain, was the obvious advantages it would have for our family's reputation. My mother wants to take full advantage of that."

"I see," Hermione said again. "So, I can assume there will be quite a crowd."

Draco eyed her warily, nodding.

She gave him a long, thoughtful look, and finally said, "Sure."

Draco blinked. "Sure?"

"Sure, I'll do it. The end result is the same either way, so what do I have to lose? None of my friends will be there, so the only one who has to deal with people will be you. I suppose it can't hurt to grant you one little favor."

Draco scoffed, sitting back in his chair. "It's hardly a favor for me- it's all my mother's plan."

"True, but in the end this is a favor for the Malfoy family. I don't _have_ to have a public ceremony for a marriage that is for all intents and purposes, fake. Hence, I am doing you a favor. A big favor."

"Fine," Draco snapped. "What do you want in return?"

Hermione smiled sadly, shaking her head. She really couldn't understand Malfoy's thought-process. "I don't _want_ anything. Nothing you can give me, anyways. However," she turned in her chair, facing Malfoy and meeting his eyes boldly, "if you ask someone to do a favor for you, there's a proper way to go about it. Let's try this one more time."

And, saying that, she continued to stare at him, waiting expectantly. It was such a simple act of courtesy she was expecting, and yet it seemed to take him several moments to catch on.

"I… Why should I…? Oh, fine. Granger, will you _please_ make an appearance at _our_ wedding ceremony?"

"Of course, Malfoy! I would love a chance to mingle with higher society." Despite the fact that she meant the sentence to be sarcastic, she managed to reel in her tone of voice to be the perfect picture of smooth and polite.

She waited, staring at him again.

He started to squirm under her gaze, plucking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "Thank you," he managed in a small voice, and Hermione covered her mouth in an attempt to hide her laughter. Those two words sounded like they really cost him.

...

"Miss Granger, I'm glad you've come to see me about this. I know this whole situation can be so disheartening to a young girl like you…" the Headmaster began, and Hermione noted the thread of pity running through her voice. "So many young people affected by this Law… but it doesn't have to ruin your future. I have ensured through constant petition with the Ministry that there is a clause about education and employment rights in the Law itself. While it is true that Malfoy Manor will be your home once your acceptance of his petition goes through, no one has the right to stop you from flooing to whatever post-Hogwarts schooling or career you should choose."

Hermione nodded. That clause had not been in her initial Ministry packet, but Headmistress McGonagall had provided all of her students with the details of the Law in full through speeches made during dinner. She also was required by law to list all students who had accepted petitions, to avoid anyone putting their hopes into someone that was already taken.

The numbers of paired students were rising rapidly, and Hermione reminded herself that she still had to talk to that Hufflepuff for Ron.

"That's why I'm here," Hermione said, pulling out several clippings from the Prophet. They were not articles about the Marriage Law, but rather classified ads for apprenticeships. She was focused on the future; this Marriage Law was just a minor bump.

"Well, there's an opening for an apprenticeship with a Metal Charmer in London that seems really intriguing, and since I've always rather liked Charms I was wondering if you could write me a recommendation. Obviously I will ask Professor Flitwick as well, but I feel that you're the best person to give an honest review of my character. You've always been incredibly fair as a Professor, Headmistress, and it would mean a lot to me."

McGonagall smiled kindly, nodding her head. "You really do have impeccable drive for someone your age. Even after all you've been through- all you're _currently_ going through, you're still looking ahead. I can guarantee that I will write a glowing recommendation for you, Miss Granger, but why Metal Charming? You know there's an opening for a summer internship with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and it seems to fit in well with your extra-curricular activities."

Hermione nodded. McGonagall was referring to S.P.E.W, of course, and it was true she had seen the position was open… "The one for the Goblin Liason office, correct? I saw that, but I wasn't sure I was qualified…"

"That's what an internship is all about, Miss Granger, learning."

Hermione cocked her head to the side, thinking. If she could get involved with that particular office in the Ministry, it may one day lead to her dream of house elf rights. She still believed it was a worthy cause, even after being laughed at for years.

"I'll write you two recommendations," the Headmistress said, looking at Hermione over the tops of her glasses. "I recommend you apply to both and make your decision after you've had time to consider both options." She gave a little wink. "Don't be surprised if you're accepted by both- seeing your name on an application would probably lead to many different companies and offices vying for your employment. You're top of your class, afterall."

She nodded. She thought she had made up her mind, but now she would reconsider. There were just so many possibilities in her future, so many choices….

Except for who she would marry, obviously. That choice had been made for her.

"Oh, one more thing Miss Granger… while you're here, would you like to get this business settled with your three petitions?" She gave Hermione a meaningful look, as if she had forgotten what the Headmistress had told her.

Choose Malfoy. That's what she had been told, and she had to agree.

"If you don't mind… I'd rather not accept just yet. I know you have to read the accepted names out loud, and I'm not ready for my friends to know about this… arrangement. Not yet. I'll wait until the end of the week." At the last possible moment.

"But you have made your decision?"

She sighed. There was no _decision_, really. "Of course, Headmistress. Malfoy explained his situation to me, and it sounds like a better deal than my other two options."

McGonagall have her a tight-lipped smile, nodding solemnly. "I'm glad to hear you and Mr. Malfoy were able to speak amicably with each other. If there is ever any problem for you in that household, be it while you're my student or after, please don't hesitate to contact me Miss Granger. I will make it my priority to help you in any way possible."

Hermione was touched by the concern from her former Transfiguration Professor, and felt suddenly warmer inside. She had so much hope for the future, and every day her confidence in that future grew. She had nothing to fear from the Marriage Law. Nothing at all.

"I will. Thank you."

...

She walked up the cracked stone steps of what appeared to be a condemned building only three blocks away from St. Mungo's. As she approached the door, a gold cord hanging from the porch became visible, just as Malfoy's letter had said, and she pulled it three times. It made no sound, but the front door opened with a creak, revealing a very nice, well-lit entryway into what appeared to be a private residence.

She stepped through the door hesitantly. "Hello?" she called, closing the door behind her. She had owled ahead to make her appointment, so the Healer should be ready for her.

With a resounding "crack!" a small nervous-looking house elf appeared, bowing low in front of her. "Mistress is being ready for you in her office down the hall," the little elf squeaked, its voice revealing it to be female.

"Oh… thank you," she said, nodding towards the elf before walking down the long hallway. At the end of the hall was a door with a plaque reading, "Healer Judith: Your Family is Our Family."And underneath that, another sign that said "Galleon's only. No longer accepting credit, jewelry, deeds, or first-borns."

She expected that last was a joke. Hopefully.

She knocked lightly, and instantly the door flew open. A sharp faced, straight-backed old woman stood before her, her robes a clean black and her dark gray hair in a perfect bun. "You are late, Miss Granger."

"I, uh, sorry. I got a little turned around…"

But Healer Judith was no longer listening, instead walking back into her office. This room looked more like a doctor's office- it had an examination table, clean white walls, cabinets full of potions, and an ornate wooden desk at the front.

"Have a seat," she said, sitting down behind the imposingly large desk.

Hermione did as she was told, playing with the cording on the drawstring bag full of Galleons in her pocket. She had never tried to bribe someone before. She had never broken the law during peace time, and for the first time ever she wondered if she should really be doing this.

Then she thought about having to sleep with Malfoy, having him _touch_ her, and her attack of conscience was instantly quieted.

"I… I wanted to ask you-"

"I know what you came here for. All of my regular clients have come here for the same thing- you're not the first one to crack the code, Miss Granger. I can certainly put two and two together- Mr. Malfoy sent me a letter explaining that you would be seeing me sometime this week, and as much as I'm willing to do anything possible to help such loyal multi-generation customers as the Malfoys, I'm afraid that we have reached a road block."

"I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"And I was under the impression you were supposed to be bright. You're the girl from the Prophet, right? The friend of Potter?"

She nodded.

"Well, I'm sorry to inform you that in order to perform a physical for the Marriage Law requirements, all Healers had to go through a special certification seminar, which concluded with all of us signing a magically binding contract that ensured honesty in all practices relating to the Law. In most things, private practitioners like myself are left to their own devices… I've helped the Malfoys out of worse in the past." The woman sighed heavily, shaking her head. "And so, my pockets are not overflowing with all the gold that's been offered to me for my services in this matter. I'm sorry my dear, but I cannot lie and pronounce you infertile."

Hermione didn't realize her mouth was hanging open until the Healer sharply added, "And don't hold your mouth in such an unbecoming manner. You look like a carp."

...

"Why do you look so glum all of a sudden?" Ginny asked her, plopping down on the couch beside her and laying her History of Magic essay on the coffee table.

Hermione just shrugged, staring at her own Potions homework blankly.

She was trapped.

"You can talk to me, you know," Ginny said, touch Hermione's arm gently.

Trapped. And there was Ginny, with her Happily Ever After. How could she possibly offer comfort, when the mere reality of their different situations made Hermione's mood worse?

"I just… don't feel like talking right now. Thanks Ginny, but I think I'm just going to go to bed…"

She could feel Ginny's eyes on the back of her head as she made her way up the staircase to her room. She shut the door quickly, glad that it was early enough for her to be the only girl in there. She jumped in her bed, pulling the curtains closed and snuggling under her comforter.

In the silence, she could hear her own heart pounding.

She couldn't stand the thoughts that were going through her mind. Those gray eyes, full of disgust… the posture of superiority he adopted whenever he could, sneering at her every word… those pale hands, and his tight grip on her before she had hexed him a few days ago…

He was horrible. How could she possibly allow those hands to touch her, to let those eyes look at her body and that mouth to sneer at what he saw? How could she consummate this marriage with someone who not only didn't like her personality, but also didn't find her attractive at all?

She tried to think about things objectively. Was there anything about _him_ she found attractive? His attitude was atrocious, and she had never seen anything deeper in those eyes than what was reflected in them. His hair… was nicer when he chose not to wear it gelled back. The pale color just added to his abrasive image, but it wasn't a bad color. Kind of pretty, she supposed.

She had no idea what his body was like beneath his robes, but thanks to the relative tightness of quidditch uniforms she knew he was slim and probably had some small amount of muscle tone. Not enough to speak of, but he wasn't exactly scrawny.

Oh, looking on the bright side was not helping. There was just nothing she could latch onto.

With an annoyed "meaow!" Crookshanks began scratching incessantly at the door. She must have accidentally locked him in with her- she usually left him out to prowl the Common Room at night when there were less students about.

She stood, muttering to her cat, "Okay, okay… such a drama queen…" and opened the door, letting the cat slip outside. She moved back towards the bed, when something caught her eye.

There was a tiny scrap of paper moving, trapped halfway out of the drawer in her bedside table. With an embarrassed flush, she ran forward, shoving the crane origami deeper in the drawer where it wouldn't be seen. The last thing she wanted was for someone else to find the note and realize who she was stuck with… three days early. Only three days left.

She could almost feel the countdown starting.

She began to settle back in bet, when she was compelled to look back in her drawer again and carefully draw out the slightly ruffled little magicked paper. She looked at it carefully, noticing for the first time how precisely it had been folded, it's crisp edges meeting up exactly. It was really kind of beautiful, and a creative way to send a message.

Could she latch onto this? He could have just sent an owl, or passed her a note nonchalantly during potions. But he had sent her a rather elegant note, instead.

True, it was probably just a habit of his. She had seen him send such notes before, and they were certainly not meant to be in any way romantic or sweet. But she decided that deluding herself, at least a tiny bit, about his character might be the only way to make it through the next couple of days. She would hold out hope that someone who could make a very clever charm such as this must have some redeeming features she just hadn't seen yet.

He had to.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Hey guys, if you like the story, please take the time to drop me a review every once in a while. (Not that I'm whining... but there were no reviews on my last chapter which makes me sad.)  
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_**I have categorized my reasons by House, just for kicks:**_

_Ravenclaw: If I get 10 reviews today, I'll provide positive reinforcement in the form of an extra chapter._

_Slytherin: Review, or I'm going to start blackmailing!_

_Gryffindor: Allow me to amaze you with my skills so much that you'll have to give me reviews._

_Hufflepuff: Potato!_

_..._

**Chapter 6: The Invitation**

He was starting to get quite annoyed. The fact that she hadn't asked to meet with him again must have meant that everything went smoothly with Healer Judith, but it bothered him that he wasn't informed. He had owled the Healer, of course, to ask, but she had sent back something about "patient confidentiality." Since when did she have principles?

They now had only a day left. She would have to accept his offer tomorrow, and leave Hogwarts for the wedding at four. Draco was certain the only reason he was being so calm about everything was that the reality hadn't fully settled in yet. Or maybe he had just had so many months to get used to it that he was over the worst of his nausea.

It was going to be a long day.

He walked purposefully up to the seventh floor and around to the Room of Requirement. Impatiently, he paced, thinking about the room with the law books.

The door appeared, and he burst through into the room, eyes taking in the scene of disaster around him.

Books were laid out everywhere, dotted occasionally with heavily scribbled notepads. There were half-empty cups of coffee on every surface not coated in open books, and he had to walk carefully to avoid stepping on anything.

"Granger?" he called, feeling irate. Was this why his owl had returned to him without delivering his message to her? He wanted to- no, not wanted. _Needed_ to talk to her and find out what their current situation was. This was his life too, dammit. The little witch acted like she was the victim: poor little Granger and the big bad Malfoy. Well, he was tired of it. There was no doubt who was coming off worse in this whole arrangement, anyways.

That's when he heard it- from one aisle of books. A soft rumbling noise that he almost thought he had imagined. He walked forward, peering down the aisles.

There, at the end of the last aisle, a book open and pressed to her chest, was Granger. She was sleeping at a strange angle, snoring lightly with her head thrown back.

Draco rolled his eyes. How classy.

He walked over towards her, crouching down and shaking her shoulder roughly. He was hovering over her when her eyes finally opened, his frustration playing all over his expression. She cracked her eyes open, muttering, "Five more minutes…"

"Granger!" he said, again, more sharply.

She jumped, looked around with rolling eyes, and finally tilted her face up at him. Her eyes were glossy and underlined with bruised-colored circles, her skin pallid and her hair unwashed. It was clear she had been in there for some time. When her wide eyes met his she gasped, pressing her back further into the shelf behind her.

"M… Malfoy," she managed. "What…" she looked around again, noticing the book she was clutching. She threw it aside, rubbing at her face. "I fell asleep… what day is it?"

"_Day_!?" he asked, perplexed. How long had she been in here!? "It's the 27th. Well after dinner."

She groaned, making an attempt to pull her bushy hair out of her face, clutching it behind her head in a fist. "I shouldn't have slept…"

He frowned. If she was working this hard, her little plan must not have gone as expected.

"I'm sorry Malfoy," she said, struggling to her feet. It was hard with all the books around her and the sleepiness not yet gone from her eyes, so she almost fell. Instinctively, she reached for Draco, grabbing his arm and setting his own balance off tilt. Once she was standing she jumped, releasing him quickly as if she's been burned. "I, uh, have something for you," she muttered, maneuvering her way around all the scattered books towards the coffee table. She moved a few things and grabbed something, tossing it his way. He caught it, staring down at the familiar bag with disdain.

His gold. And the bag still felt just as heavy, so she probably hadn't spent any of it. He sighed- he had expected something like this, but had hoped that no news was good news. "She signed a contract?" he guessed, and Hermione nodded.

"I really thought this would work. I've been digging, trying to find some other flaw or clause that could get us out of this situation, but so far all I've found are amendments in cases of abuse or abandonment."

Draco felt the corner of his mouth lift up at that. "So if you beat me up more regularly, maybe we can both get out of this?"

She stared at him, her sleep-deprived brain seeming to need several moments to process his words. "Oh. Ha. You made a joke. I… was not expecting that."

"I have a sense of humor."

"Yes, but it's usually at someone else's expense, now isn't it?" she made her way over to the espresso machine, setting it whirring with a wave of her wand. "You want coffee?"

"Hm. Tempting, but I don't particularly want to spend time with you tonight since I'll be forced to tomorrow. There's only so much of you I can take."

Granger nodded. "Same here," she muttered, holding her cup tightly with both hands and sipping at it like it was a lifeline.

It was at that moment that Draco noticed, for the first time, her state of undress. She was down to just her white collared shirt, her tie and robes discarded on the floor. She had unbuttoned the top two buttons, and as she stood and knocked back her coffee in an undignified manner he could see the hem raise slightly above her skirt, revealing a thin line of flesh.

He shook his head. He was obviously tired, too. There was an entire girl in front of him, and not a single feature on her pleased him. But somehow, holding onto that thin line of creamy skin in his mind, he could almost find _something_, however small, attractive about the general mess that was Granger.

...

"Malfoy!" she called, catching up to him as she headed to Potions. She ran directly up, grabbing his elbow. "I need to ask you something."

His friends snickered, and Zabini elbowed Malfoy playfully indicating her with his chin. "You got an appointment with Granger?" he asked, his eyes looking down his nose at her.

Malfoy stared at her, almost pleading with his eyes, but she shook her head. "The ruse is up anyways- they'll announce it at dinner."

"We won't _be_ at dinner, if you remember, so I was hoping I could be spared the embarrassment of the initial shock."

Her mouth formed a silent, perfect 'O' at his words, and she looked up at the Slytherins behind the blond boy. "Uh, sorry…?" she tried. "But I do need to ask you something. Please? It's important."

She knew by the horrified looks on his friend's faces that the playfulness was gone. They were all very silent now, easily catching on to the situation. It would only be a matter of hours before the whole school knew, now, but she didn't care. They only had a couple of hours left before they were scheduled to leave the gates of Hogwarts and apparate to Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy's flat gray eyes suddenly looked dangerous as he brought himself to his full height, a sneer plastered on his face and angry words no doubt ready to fire on his lips. As he was opening his mouth for a retort, however, Hermione held up a hand. She was satisfied when he jumped, obviously expecting her to pull her wand again.

She rolled her eyes. He really could be such a coward.

"Before you get defensive and try to act tough in front of your friends, consider this: I have readily complied with your wishes up to this point, asking for very little in return. Invitations have certainly gone out by now, so the word is already out there. How you act right now could affect a lot of things, such as whether I'm willing to be so amiable in the near future. So what, exactly, where you going to say?"

The implication was obvious: he could go to that fancy ceremony his mother set up alone, or with her. His choice.

He stared at her blankly a moment, resumed his sneer, and started to open his mouth again. But whatever he saw on her face gave him pause, and like a balloon deflating his shoulders and face fell slowly into less threatening posture. He nodded, his mouth set in a straight line. "I was going to say, what do you need?" he glared at his friends, indicating with his head that he clearly wanted them to go off to the class without him. Sniggering and screeching and loudly commenting on what a "lovely couple" they made, the boys headed off. Malfoy flinched, watching them leave.

"Was it necessary to talk to me in the open?" he asked, his teeth gritting together.

Hermione was going to wave off his over-concern with his reputation when something occurred to her: This really was going to be give and take. If she did something to hurt him, he would eventually find a way to do the same to her. There was no way this would work if she waved off his feelings so easily. "I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't mean to be so obvious," she smiled apologetically, shrugging. "Gryffindors wear their hearts on their sleeves- guess I'm just not so good at being covert all the time."

"Yes, well, your 'heart' isn't the only thing obvious about you. You look like hell. Why didn't you sleep?"

"Sleep? Who can sleep?" she suddenly screeched. Then, realizing she was still in a crowded hallway, she cleared her throat, blinking rapidly, her voice returning to normal volume. "Sorry. Right. I was still holding out hope until now…"

"You've been in the Room of Requirement this whole time? What was that,_ two days_?"

"Two and a half, not counting breaks for meals." She had, however, skipped her classes. Considering everyone was about to get a week off in recognition of the Marriage Law's crazy requirements, she didn't think it mattered much. She hated missing classes, but it wasn't the first time she had done so in lieu of an emergency situation.

But it had all been for nothing.

"What is it that you want, Granger?"

She took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm going to tell my friends what's going on. I don't want them to find out from McGonagall's list after we're already gone- it wouldn't be fair, and they'd only worry about me. Also... I want to invite one of them."

Malfoy scowled. "Just one?"

"Yes."

"Let me guess- would that be the one that would annoy me the most?"

"Absolutely," she said with a small smile. Malfoy caught on quick. She just needed someone to be there who was on _her_ side… someone who could keep a level head when the situation called for it. She wanted to invite Harry.

...

Granted, Harry was also the type to get extremely uncomfortable in awkward social situations, but in this one instance, she didn't really care. She needed him there.

"Hermione, you know we'll be late for class."

"I don't care."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that, finally looking concerned. "Today's the last day," he muttered, and she nodded. Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't you want to get Ginny, or…"

"No, I want to talk to you. I know you have class with Ron next, and I don't think I can be the one to tell him who I have to marry tonight."

Harry looked very awkward just then, crossing his arms and looking down the hall. He sighed in defeat, dropping his arms to his sides. "Okay, I'll tell him. Who is it?"

"D..co…M…oy…" she muttered, and Harry squinted at her. He stepped closer, raising a hand to his ear.

"Who?"

"Dr….co….Mal…" She was certain her face was beet red at this point, but she just couldn't squeeze the name past her teeth. Not with Harry right there in front of her, that look of concern on his face.

"I still didn't catch that… er… one more time?"

She took a deep breath, looked him straight in the eyes, and said, "The ferret."

His eyes grew wide, and she was a little concerned at his lack of breathing. She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Hey, Harry. It's okay. Really. I can handle Malfoy- I'm not scared."

"I… you… how?" Harry managed, and Hermione launched into the full story, explaining why he had petitioned for her, the fact that they both had an unspoken shaky truce that led them to act decent around each other (most of the time), and the fact that she was having an actual wedding… in a matter of hours.

"And I want you to come. For moral support."

"For moral support… Hermione, this is crazy. Why didn't you tell us sooner! We could have gotten you out of this…"

She shook her head. "Trust me- I've been trying. He's my only option. I'm serious- I'm not afraid of him. I do, however, hate this degrading situation we've been shoved into, and I'd really appreciate having at least one friendly face around me tonight. Please?"

"But, the details of the Law…you have to to, er, that is… it's Malfoy!" The look of complete disgust on her friend's face was understandable, but she was beginning to get annoyed at his lack of consideration for her feelings.

"I'm aware, Harry. I'd rather not think about it, so thanks for bringing it up again. It's not like I've lost sleep over it or anything."

For the first time, Harry seemed to notice her zombie-like state, taking in her face and hair with a frown. "You… you do look like you've been through hell."

It was so similar to what Malfoy had told her that she started to laugh, prompting Harry's frown of concern to deepen, his eyes wide. She really should have gotten some sleep. Then again, maybe she could sleep through the whole wedding… Was that an option?

"I'll go, Hermione, I'll go… just stop laughing like that. You're scaring me, here."

"Sorry," she said, then flung her arms around her friend. "Oh, thank you Harry!" She handed him a shiny white and gold invitation, and he blanched at the sight of the crest.

"Merlin… does this mean your last name will be… Malfoy?"

"It does," she said, eyes downcast. Silence descended on the pair, broken only by the sudden realization that the halls were empty.

"I should go to class… I'll talk to Ron. See you at, uh…" he peered down at the card, "…four?"

She nodded, walking away in the opposite direction. She was due to meet Malfoy in an hour… maybe she could take a small nap in the Common Room beforehand?

...

She was late, and Draco was pissed.

Where was she? Was it possible that this was all a ruse? That she never meant to show up for the actual wedding? It would explain why she had agreed so quickly, and it certainly had stopped him from mentioning it again.

Damn.

He was just about to walk back to the school from the front gates, march up Gryffindor tower, and hex the nearest first year into letting him in when he saw it: a brown fluffy blob in the distance that could only be Granger's hair bobbing towards him from the castle. He tapped his foot, impatient.

His mother would not be pleased if he was late, but she would have been inconsolable if he had dared leave without the bride.

"I'm… pant… sorry I'm late," said the sweaty bride-in-question, walking up until she was standing before him. "I set an alarm, then I remembered I never actually _accepted_ your offer, so I had to find McGonagall, and there was a line…"

"Nevermind. We need to go." He reached out a hand, waiting for her.

She stared at it, then waved it away. "I don't need to side-along with you, Malfoy. I know where your house is.

He nodded stiffly, and the two turned around away from the school, apparating so they instantly appeared at the gates of Malfoy's home. Hermione gasped- she had never had a chance to get a good look at the outside of the Manor, but the front entrance was adorned with so many flowers it looked like someone splattered the place with every color paint under the sun. The gardens surrounding the cobblestone path to the looming pillars of the front entrance were immaculately groomed, and butterflies danced along the blooming spots of color even as the frigid February air stung Hermione's face.

"It's so pretty," she whispered, and Malfoy rolled his eyes.

"You _would_ like the front garden. Really, you have no taste. The rare plants are out back by the gazebo."

She nodded, trying to take it all in. The house was enormous, of course, but in its impressive size it was also very cold and foreboding. She wished they could have the wedding outside… wait, didn't Malfoy say there was a gazebo?

But no. It was still very cold out, even though the plants seemed to be charmed not to care.

Malfoy led the way inside, and Hermione felt her heart sink. The front entrance was, unlike the gardens, very familiar for her. This was where Malfoy had been forced to inspect Harry Potter with his deformed face.

This was also the place where Malfoy had avoided the questions put to him by his father, one of the few small redeeming acts she witnessed during the war.

Now, like before, it was full of people. But these people were busy, running back and forth levitating flowers and food from where it had been delivered at the entrance. Hermione guessed that no matter how many house elves the Malfoys may have, they still needed to hire extra help for an event as big and as last-minute as this.

Malfoy himself looked a little out of place, gazing about and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Suddenly, right on cue, a familiar blond witch stepped between the caterers, moving quickly over to her only son.

"Draco! Oh, I'm so glad you're here!" she said, her voice a burst of emotion, enveloping him in a hug.

Hermione found the look on Malfoy's face amusing, and his mother's love quite endearing. She smiled, and when Narcissa Malfoy turned to her she had transformed from loving mother to the picture of charm and grace once more. "Oh, Miss Granger… or, Hermione. Yes, I suppose this would be as good a time as any to get on a first-name basis with my daughter-in-law. I am very impressed with your composure, young lady. You truly showed your maturity, agreeing to this ceremony so readily."

Hermione had never had much in the way of interactions with this woman, but she had always been described to her as stuck up and cold. The woman in front of her, however, was obviously putting in a lot of effort to win her over, her words gushing and her tone light. Either Harry's earlier accounts were wrong, or Narcissa Malfoy was a fantastic actor. "Of course. There's no reason for me to make things difficult for Malfoy… Er, Draco."

Narcissa smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "Well, you are a dear. Please, walk with me. I took the liberty of obtaining your measurements from your last robe fitting and having wedding robes commissioned for you. The rings only just arrived- I take it you only just accepted? Nevermind. Everything is as it should be." Hermione sent one last look back at Malfoy as she tried to keep up with the rapid pace of his mother. He was staring after her, his face carefully blank.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Have you heard that Emma Watson is single? The comments about it are too fantastic. My favorite was: "$100 he couldn't pronounce "Wingardium Leviosa" correctly."_

_Personally, I see this as the perfect opportunity for her to go marry Tom Felton so they can have the most BEAUTIFUL BABIES. XD (Though oddly, when writing I DON'T picture the movie actors at all)._

_..._

_Also, sadly, we didn't quite reach 10 reviews, so no double upload this morning. However, I'll let that rule stand for tomorrow, too: If I get 10 reviews in the next 24 hours, I'll post TWO chapters tomorrow. (Hint Hint: The next chapter is pretty exciting, sooo... you might be wanting two tomorrow. Maybe.)  
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**Chapter 7: The Wedding**

Hermione took a small, gasping breath. "Can we… maybe… loosen it a little?" she wheezed, and to her relief one of the seamstresses let out a whole half an inch to the ties of the corset.

She had not been expecting this particular dress when, as a child, she pictured her wedding day. The dress was hanging up, and it was deceptively simple. It had an open robed layer which fell off the shoulder and trailed behind, and the dress underneath was simple and elegant. It had a neckline that was high enough to cover her collar bone, and she was grateful for that. The last thing she wanted was to feel exposed… the dress exuded an air of confidence, elegance, and control, three things she did not feel she represented well herself at the moment.

Once the dress was officially on her, she appreciated the cinched waste. Somehow the conservative dress made her look lovelier than she expected, her figure cut sharply in thick white satin. She could almost define herself as sexy, if that didn't imply that she wanted to look sexy for the groom. Which she did not.

Her hair, however, was another story.

"Oh good, you're dressed!" Narcissa Malfoy exclaimed, coming in to check on her son's bride. She had done that frequently over the past hour, as if afraid Hermione might bolt and jump out the window at the first opportunity. "We still have a half-hour for your hair- plenty of time!"

Hermione tried to look encouraging, but she didn't think a half-hour would cut it. Three make-up and hair designers descended upon her, splattering her locks with various smelly goo's and painting on her eyes. They gave her constant commands, and she tried her best to follow along.

"Close your eyes."

"Tilt your head to the right. My right, not your right."

"Open your mouth and look up."

"Lean forward."

"Do this," the make-up witch said, pressing her lips together and making a kissy face. Hermione complied, rubbing the lipstick on. She wasn't _inept_ at being a girl- she could do her own make-up. She would much rather have just dealt with things on her own than getting prodded and poked by the three women, but Narcissa Malfoy didn't leave her much of a choice.

The make-up covered up the worst of her sleepless raccoon eyes, at least, and she found herself looking at a refreshed, though still guardedly unhappy, face in the mirror. Her hair was still uncooperative- in the end all three witched were working tirelessly, at first smoothly blending in _Sivan's Smooth-__Y__ou Serum_, and then finally resorting to wands. Straightening that much hair took time- Hermione remembered the Yule ball, and the hours she took preparing herself for what turned out to be a slightly disappointing night.

By some miracle, the witches were able to tame her hair into a lovely braided up-do, every stray hair tucked neatly into place for the first time in her life.

She turned her head this way and that, enjoying the feel of her hair off her shoulders. She rarely wore it up, and when she did it was just in a messy bun. She scrutinized her image… there didn't seem to be anything in particular people could pick at, but she had a feeling there would be plenty of people at this party who would try. This was not her wedding. This was Draco Malfoy's wedding. She was just invited.

She sighed, standing as Narcissa ushered her forward with frantic hand gestures. It seemed that being late was the bane of the woman's existence, and Hermione would usually have agreed.

Following the prim blond woman down expansive halls, Hermione suddenly felt very small. How could she ever hope to navigate this labyrinth herself? She was supposed to _live_ here? The house felt more like a museum to gaudy taste than an actual home.

The walls were all fresh white with gold trim, the floors hardwood in some places, and marble in many rooms. It was the way one would picture a mansion in their _heads_, but not the way real people lived. She much preferred the joyful chaos of the Weasley's small cozy home to this monument to cold dignified silence.

Finally, they came to a door. Hermione could hear many voices behind this door, and her heart began to pound. Why had she agreed to this? To get along better with Malfoy? To avoid an argument? Was this torture really worth that?

At this point, did she even have a choice?

"Here!" Narcissa said suddenly, grabbing flowers from a rushed looking girl who popped through another door on the right and shoving them into Hermione's hands. It was overflowing with pink roses and baby's breath, the grip studded with gems and ribbon. Her runes class had briefly covered the meaning in everyday objects, too, and flowers were in one interesting section… though it didn't take a genius to figure it out. True love and festivity. The flowers were blatant lies.

The doors opened of their own accord, and the music started. Wizard weddings were actually very much like muggle weddings, though perhaps a little more archaic. The iconic wedding march playing sounded mocking to her ears, and as the guests turned she saw several quietly whisper behind their hands to their neighbors.

She thought she recognized a few faces here and there, but after a moment she decided looking at the crowd was too painful… so she looked to the front.

Of course, Malfoy was standing in front of the Ministry officiate wearing impeccable wizard robes and an impressively blank look on his face. He wasn't giving anything away: she knew he was scowling inside, wishing he could lash out to cover up his horrible embarrassment.

Her own emotions came to her like a punch to the stomach, and while she tried to fight them off, it proved to be too difficult. This whole thing had been like a game. A bump in the road. But now she realized that the boy at the front of the room staring at her with quiet, cold gray eyes was her future. He would be with her until the end of the Law or until the end of their lives, whatever came first. She could try to avoid him, but she could never run away from her last name… primarily because the magic Ministry-distributed rings wouldn't allow for it.

The flowers fell from her hands, her grip suddenly growing loose without her knowledge. She blinked, looking down at the gaudy bouquet. It was like it fell in slow motion, every person in the room holding their breath as the soft sound of leaves crushing against the carpet filled her ears.

Then, a face in the crowd caught her eyes. Standing to be sure he'd be seen, right in the middle of the crowd, was Harry. He had a kind of fervor in his eyes that came to him when his friends were in trouble, a will to defend the weak against the cruel. That trait was what made Harry the hero that he was- he never gave up on anyone.

He met her eyes, cocking his head to the side. She knew what he was trying to tell her with no more indication than that: We could leave. Give me the word, and I'll get you out of here.

She could run. Escape the country.

Or she could get caught. Have her wand taken from her.

She remembered her meeting in McGonagall's office, and her beautiful hopes for her future education. No internships, no apprenticeships, and not even a muggle high school diploma to help her go down a different path.

How could she throw away her dreams just because of one bully Slytherin? How could she be scared of him, scared of her future, when she had so much to look forward to?

She picked the flowers off the ground, sent an honest smile to Harry, lifted her head high, and started walking. She couldn't let her confidence falter again. Draco Malfoy might always be in her future, but that didn't _make_ him her future himself. She would have a life outside of this horrible house, a wonderful life full of friends and a career.

She made it to the front of the room in what she was sure was record time, eager to get this whole night over with so she could move on with her life. She met Malfoy's eyes challengingly, daring him to show her something, anything, of his true emotions in front of all these esteemed guests.

Strangely, his eyes crinkled slightly, his mouth turning up a little at the corner. Was he attempting to plaster on a happy face, or did he find her amusing somehow? She supposed watching a girl take on her wedding vows like she was heading off to fight giants was rather amusing, and she could only imagine how she had looked marching up to him. She smirked back, shaking her head slightly.

The vows came to her lips easier than she would have thought. They were just words. The vows were very old fashioned, and she found herself scowling at "honor and obey," flashing Malfoy a look that made it clear that those parts should be omitted from his memory immediately.

Like robots, they both said their "I dos," mimicking the officiate not only in words but in exact tone. Neither of them were really listening- Hermione guessed Malfoy's mind was, like hers, more focused on the other horrors of the night to come.

"You may now kiss the bride," the old man said, and Hermione fought the strange urge to kick him in the shins. How insensitive! He _had_ to know this was just a marriage of convenience, a forced union of the Marriage Law. Why did he want to embarrass them in front of all these people? Or perhaps he was just too old to realize his closing words were not at all welcome… he did look to be at least a hundred.

The crowd tittered, small bouts of whispering breaking out. Draco looked down at her, and she looked up at him, and neither of them moved.

Their stand-off lasted about ten seconds- but at the head of a room full of people, ten seconds seemed like an eternity of awkwardness. Malfoy suddenly leaned forward, touching only her wrist as he pulled her closer and pressed his lips to hers.

It was the quickest kiss in the history of kisses. She couldn't even remember feeling his lips on hers as he broke away, standing back a full pace afterwards. The crowd burst out in cheers, willfully ignoring how obviously forced and pathetic the kiss was in an effort to move past the awkward moment. Hermione's face turned red, and she glowered at Malfoy. He didn't _have_ to do it- it was all just for appearances. She felt an irrational burst of anger, and she might have chosen to throw her flowers in his stupid pointy face if he hadn't leaned forward again, whispering, "It's over now, ok? Let's just get through this."

She let her anger drain, taking deep breaths as she nodded, acquiescing. He offered his arm, and with an enormous effort she took it, digging her nails unpleasantly into his sleeve and skin in a way that wouldn't be noticeable to others in the room. He flinched, but didn't otherwise acknowledge her. The pair walked forward, leading the way back out the large doors she had entered from.

There was now a completely different room behind those doors, a room brightly lit and with ample space for the crowd. Servants dotted the walls, waiting silently for the guests to take their seats for dinner. Half of the enormous room was full of tables with elegant settings and fresh flower centerpieces, the other half set aside for dancing. Gentle classical music filled the air, and for a moment, Hermione was soothed. This was what she had wanted her wedding to be like, one day. The only real problem was the _groom_.

Malfoy led her to a big table at the back with space for just the two of them, and Hermione set herself down to watching the guests who filed in behind them. Their table was up on a slight dais, allowing her a clear view of the room at large.

Many people wore very fine robes and expensive, sparkling jewelry. They were obviously either from rich families, or families who wished they were pure bloods, based on the humoring smirks on many of their faces as they looked at her. Clearly, they found her emotional turmoil entertaining. Perhaps they saw it as the "muggle-born way," to show her feelings so clearly, but she didn't feel ashamed at all. She met any such gazes solidly, challenging them to look away first.

Then, there were the friendly faces. Hermione was overjoyed to see McGonagall appear from amongst the crowd, and jumped from her seat in excitement. The Headmistress walked over immediately, nodding her greeting.

"I didn't know you would be here, Headmistress!" she gushed, as the older woman took her hands firmly in her own, her eyes studying and her lips curling into a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Miss… Hermione, it was I who suggested this match to you, so it's only proper that I should attend. It seems to be the event of the year, at any rate," she said, eyeing the crowd. "Not many people opted for an actual ceremony to… _c__elebrate_ the Law."

Hermione was glad her former Professor hadn't used her new last name. Not yet. It would have been too painful. "Well, you know me… any excuse for a party." The statement was such an obvious reversal of the truth that even McGonagall's eyebrows rose, and she coughed into her hand to hide her laugh.

"Be that as it may, I trust that everything will work out well for you, in the end," she looked to Malfoy this time, her eyes warm but her smile gone. "Mr. Malfoy," she started, leaning over the table and lowering her voice. "I don't know if it has sunk in yet, but you are in fact responsible for saving this girl's life with this arrangement. You should feel proud of yourself."

Malfoy looked a little shell-shocked, his arms still at his sides and his gaze turned up at his Headmistress with wide-eyed surprise. Hermione was surprised too- it wasn't just for her sake that McGonagall was here. She cared about all her students, even if Malfoy had never been one of the most pleasant ones. McGonagall didn't dish out compliments to anyone who didn't deserve it, and her tone made it clear that her words were nothing but praise for his character. He blinked, sitting up a little straighter.

"I… I was just doing what I had to."

"Sometimes, Mr. Malfoy, doing what you 'have to' can be the most difficult thing of all. In this case, it was the right decision."

It didn't occur to Hermione until that moment that Malfoy, too, could have left the country. With all his family's money, he surely would have been just fine elsewhere. He could have hid out, made a new life for himself…. Of course, it would have dragged his family's name through the mud even more, but ulterior motives aside he had technically saved her life. She smiled at him, and his eyebrows drew together just a little bit, his expression calculating.

When McGonagall left to find her seat- this was one of the extremely 'fun' kind of parties with seating arrangements- Hermione continued to scan the crowd.

That's when she saw Kingsley Shackelbolt enter.

"Son of a bitch," she said under her breath, taking a long drink of the water glass in front of her. A serving girl hurriedly filled her glass again with a quickly muttered spell.

Malfoy looked at her, his eyes wide. "What did you say?"

She nodded across the room, indicating the tall former Order member who was responsible for all their troubles. She had rather liked him, before this Marriage Law business. The changes he had been instilling in the ministry had been positive steps towards a better, more united Wizarding World, until someone had the bright idea to overstep their boundaries and allow the Ministry into people's personal lives.

She glared.

"Yes," Malfoy agreed readily, his eyes narrowing. "I concur."

She smiled at him, enjoying their brief moment of camaraderie, but he didn't meet her gaze. Her face fell, and she took another drink of water. When the hell would the _wine_ be served?

And then, there _he_ was. The crowd parted for him, and Hermione was almost glad that the attention was diverted away from her and Malfoy for a short time. Everyone was now clearly whispering about how Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Destroyer of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Order of Merlin First Class, was calmly walking through a crowd in what was once one of Voldemort's bases, the household of his childhood rival Draco Malfoy.

It would certainly make it into the Prophet tomorrow.

Hermione smiled even as Malfoy grunted his disapproval, his gray eyes trained on the boy working his way to their table. "Of course, you had to invite _him_." He muttered.

"If I hadn't invited him, I might have hyperventilated and passed out before walking down the aisle, and think how embarrassing _that_ would have been for the Malfoy family," she said with a wink, standing up and bouncing over to her friend with open arms.

...

Draco was not amused. He was certain Granger had been over-exaggerating just a touch, and as he watched the two embrace he was met with a very unfamiliar twinge of jealousy.

Not for the girl, of course. He couldn't care less if Potter and her were a couple, though he was pretty certain he was dating that Weasley girl. No, the jealousy writhing in his gut was from the mere supportive presence Harry represented to Hermione. None of his friends were able to attend- they were all busy dealing with their own messes, tonight. The guests of the wedding were family friends and people of power- they were not a shoulder to lean on in tough times. Pansy, Zabini, Goyle… they were people who he could have easily conversed with, people who could have lent him their strength with disparaging remarks about his bride and reaffirmations of his own worth.

He tried not to look at his bride, instead scanning the crowd for his mother. Where was she?

Probably yelling at the caterers. The food should have arrived by now. Everyone other than the rare straggler- such as Potter- was seated.

He finally looked back at Granger, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that she was now a Malfoy. No, not a true Malfoy. A Malfoy by blood was always better than a Malfoy by marriage.

Even still, he couldn't actually call her 'Granger' anymore.

Wasn't it just the saddest thing that him and his bride still referred to each other by their surnames? How could anyone not see how pathetic this facade of a wedding really was? The only thing that could force them to use their given names would be their last names becoming the same. It was all so twisted.

Hermione was turned away from him, facing Potter. The dark haired boy's eyes skimmed past his friend's, meeting Draco's. They narrowed, his jaw clenched. Draco assumed dirty looks across a crowded room would be the most interaction the two would have for the evening, when, to Malfoy's horror, Potter started walking towards his table with Hermione in tow.

"Listen," Potter said, and Draco did his best to look like he was doing just the opposite, assuming a bored expression and turning his gaze to the rest of the room. He lifted his water to his mouth, sipping slowly. "Malfoy, I wanted you to know that I was there, that night, at the astronomy tower."

Draco froze. His water slipped in his hand, spilling a little on his pant leg as he struggled to catch it and place it back on the table in front of him. His heart was pounding as his mind was drawn against his will back to that defining moment, the moment when he disarmed Dumbledore and ultimately led the old man to his death. "How dare you…" Malfoy said quietly, baring his teeth at the boy standing in front of his table.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket.

Potter shook his head. "Let's just have a moment here where we don't go for each other's throats, okay? I meant to say, I saw what you _didn't do_ at the astronomy tower. I saw… well, I saw you for who you really are, Malfoy. In the end, Dumbledore was right; you were never a killer. I want you to know I told this to the Wizengamot at your trial in a private meeting. I never thought they would make _this," _He gestured around them at the party, "a condition of your freedom… but I'm glad you didn't go to Azkaban." He frowned, his jaw clenching again. "However, you have never been kind to Hermione. You've saved her, and I appreciate that, but just remember- I saved your life, at the Battle of Hogwarts. I kept you out of Azkaban. I know you're loath to be in my debt, but you clearly are."

Hermione was staring at him throughout his speech, her mouth falling open. Draco felt indignant anger begin to boil in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't _need_ this... even if it was true.

Potter leaned close, his voice still low enough that other people in the room probably wouldn't hear. Probably. The thing about Dark Wizard families is that they always seem to have ears everywhere…

"Pay me back with _this_. She's like a sister to me, and I want her to be happy. I don't care what you have to do to make sure she's happy, but it's _all on you_."

Hermione was clearly embarrassed, a light blush playing on her cheeks and her eyes turned towards the ground. "Thanks, Harry," she said. "I know you mean well, but-"

"No, Hermione. Don't do that. Don't try and make this your problem only. This situation is not split 50/50. You are giving up much more than he is." Harry shook his head. "I hope you don't mind if I don't stay for dinner."

Hermione shook her head, smiling at him sadly, before the hero turned on his heel and made his way out of the vast ballroom.

She looked up at Draco, then, her dull brown eyes meeting his. There was something there… she looked almost apologetic, and he found himself feeling a little sick. He would never admit it out loud, but Potter was right- he owed him a life debt.

But given the situation, he was the last person to know how to make Hermione Granger… Hermione _Malfoy_ happy.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Yay! You did it! I got enough reviews for a double upload day! Since I anticipate this chapter will be a bit popular (being the first M-rated chapter), I'll make a deal for today, too. If I get at least 15 reviews today, I'll double upload tomorrow too! _

_I hope everyone likes this chapter! I put in a lot of work and wracked my brain for a long time on this. I'm pretty sure it's not, exactly, what anyone is expecting it to be. _

_..._

**Chapter 8: The Potion on the Nightstand**

It was well past ten, now. Their rings were stuck to their fingers, and were not coming off anytime soon. Most people had until midnight for the contract of marriage to become active, but because they had opted for an actual ceremony they had been legally married since that afternoon.

Which meant that they had until around four-thirty tomorrow to consummate their new partnership.

Hermione's stomach dropped, watching as the last guests started to trickle out. Her and Malfoy had not danced. They had not so much as left their table since Harry left, but no one seemed to mind. Narcissa was doing most of the hosting, greeting people and making sure everything ran smoothly from the kitchens. No one noticed how miserable the bride and groom were, sitting side by side at their own table.

Harry's words had touched her, but they seemed to have had little effect on Malfoy. If anything, he seemed even more abrasive than usual, answering any comments she bothered to make with silence or snippy comebacks.

She cleared her throat, and when Malfoy didn't look at her she cleared it again almost comically loud.

"What?" he asked, his head resting on his hand.

"I… I want to get this night over with," she said, trying to sound much braver than she felt.

He blinked, and seemed to suddenly come out of whatever dark thoughts had been plaguing his mood the whole evening. He shook his head as if trying to clear it, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "You're right. Let's go."

She had been the one to suggest it… so why did his final words feel so cumbersome, like a gavel falling down heavily upon the table?

Malfoy stood up, and without a word Hermione followed. Servants had already begun to clean up after the party a little, but the moment the two walked towards the door they descended on the place, pulling up table cloths and shrinking tables.

The path Malfoy was walking was ridiculously complex. It was like first year at Hogwarts all over again… okay, maybe not that bad. Malfoy Manor wasn't _that_ big, though it did seem to include a few moving rooms if the reception was any indication.

They went up a staircase, down a hall, turned right, walked through a sunny open space that seemed to function as some kind of trophy room, went through a door, walked past a series of portraits that sneered at her in a very familiar Malfoy-way, and finally arrived at an ornate door that opened to admit the two of them.

This could not be a bedroom. It was just… massive!

There was a four poster bed at the center back of the room, areas for brooms and quidditch gear, a large wardrobe, and a plush green rug near the bed. Hermione was fairly certain this room was as big as the Weasley home's ground floor. For a moment she nearly forgot where she was and why she was there as she tried to imagine growing up in such luxury.

Hermione gulped, trying to control her rebelliously shaking hands by taking a turn about the room, looking at Malfoy's keepsakes.

That was what really intrigued her. Not the expensive furniture, but the small things that made him almost seem like a normal boy. Hanging Quidditch posters, framed moving photos of his friends on the walls, a couple of books by his bed… all very humanizing objects. This house was downright creepy- it was nice to see the small lived-in touches that made it seem less cold and lifeless.

She walked over to the bed automatically, drawn to the books. She inspected the covers, and felt an odd comfort from the cool leather bindings. One was a biography of a Quidditch player she had never heard of, and the other was an Arithmancy N.E.W.T.S study guide. "Christmas break reading?" She asked, holding up the Arithmancy book.

Malfoy shrugged. "We all have N.E.W.T.S coming up. I plan on passing my Arithmancy one."

As always, when she held an academic book in her hand, she was filled with a pleasant feeling similar to nostalgia. Studying was more than a habit of hers- it was calming. Almost therapeutic. She appreciated someone who worked for their dreams, and she was glad to know Malfoy was one of those people. Even without Snape in their Potions class, he got good marks, so it was clear to her that his head wasn't completely empty. She wanted to ask him what his dream was, exactly… what would he do after Hogwarts?

Then, all at once, she noticed her proximity to the bed and remembered the reality of their situation: where they were and why.

"I, um…"

"Can you grab those two potions?" Malfoy asked quietly, still standing at the door. She realized he had been watching her inspect his room in silence, and he was now looking down at the bedside table where she had picked up the book. Sure enough, there were two small vials of pink liquid next to the books.

Hermione's head began to spin. "I don't want to take that," she said firmly.

Malfoy stalked across the room, and she took an involuntary step back away from the table and the bed. He grabbed the potions, looking into their clear glowing pink contents, and frowned. "Well, I'm not going to force you," he said, placing them back down on the table. "They're very weak, though… I thought it might… help our situation."

Hermione shook her head, keeping her eyes on Malfoy as if she expected him to jump at her. She couldn't help herself. This was already a horrible degrading night, and he wanted to complicate things further? "It just seems… unhealthy," she said, struggling to find a way to explain her misgivings. "I don't want it," her voice shook a little at the end, and she cursed herself for looking so weak. She had said it a dozen times: she wasn't afraid of Malfoy. She could get through this... and she could do it without that little pink vial.

Malfoy nodded solemnly. "I won't take it if you won't," he said, and it sounded like a promise.

She relaxed visibly, taking in his strange soft tone and slow movements, so uncharacteristic it was almost disturbing. He really was just trying to help. He also seemed to be trying very hard not to scare her, as the potions so obviously had. She rubbed her forehead. She was still sleep deprived- she wasn't thinking as clearly as she normally would. She should say something. "I… I appreciate that," she muttered, looking down at the forest-green rug beneath her feet.

She heard a rustle of fabric, and her head snapped up. Malfoy had removed the topmost cloak of his dress-robes, throwing the pooling black fabric to a chair in the corner. The room was so big, it didn't quite make it, and instead landed in a heap on the floor.

Her eyes widened and she was suddenly gripped by an incomprehensible panic. Her heart was pounding so hard she was certain he could hear it in the silent room. He stepped forward, and she stepped back, mirroring his movement. He froze, but she could only look down at his feet. She wasn't brave enough for this. Not this. Not him.

"What if I ran away now?" she wondered, and she didn't realize she had said it out loud until Malfoy answered her.

"The ring would lead the Ministry right to you, wherever you might be. They started a whole new office for dragging in runaways and dealing with them according to the Law."

She already knew that. She was just voicing her secret wish out loud.

He took another step closer, and this time she managed to hold her ground.

"We… can't call each other by our surnames anymore," Draco said, and Hermione was just confused enough at the change of subject that she looked up. His gaze was roaming over her, studying. "I've never seen that rat's nest worn up before… you have a nice neck, Hermione."

He couldn't give a compliment without throwing in an insult, could he? Her _neck_? Was he being serious?

His eyes were trailing appraisingly down her, now, and she suddenly felt very insecure. She crossed her arms over her middle, biting her lip. How dare he look at her that way, as if he was trying to find something about her he found appealing? She suddenly didn't want him to find anything- not even her neck. He didn't have the right to find anything about her attractive.

He reached out hesitantly, his hand moving behind her head and gently touching the back of her neck. His fingers felt cold, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she shivered. He pulled her forward slowly, and she looked up into his eyes.

And saw nothing.

They were as carefully blank as they were during the ceremony, giving nothing away. If eyes were the window to the soul, Draco had closed the blinds. She couldn't have him _touching_ her when his eyes looked like that… she couldn't do this. He hated this as much as she did, or at least very nearly.

She was shaking again, she noted, as he leaned forward, bringing his lips towards hers.

She pulled back, removing his hand from the back of her neck and letting out a little yelp. It was a horrible sound, like an animal cornered, and she instantly hated herself for it. She was showing her weakness, again, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Draco sat back onto the bed heavily with a sigh, his eyes closed. He looked like his head hurt. "You're not making this easy."

"I know," she answered, her heart still thudding. "I know."

After a moment she took several slow, hesitant steps towards the bed, sitting down next to Draco. "We could wait… we have most of tomorrow," she tried, and Draco gave her an incredulous look.

"Will this be any easier tomorrow?" he asked, and she knew he had a point.

"Okay. Okay. Try again," she said, resisting the urge to scoot further away from him on the bed.

She wasn't attracted to him. She found his personality vile. His hands had been cold on her neck. So many reasons why her body betrayed her logic, making her want to run.

But she had to hold her ground. They just had to get past this one night, and at the very least he seemed to really be considering her feelings. He wasn't completely heartless... not about _this_.

"I'm not… despite what you may think, I was raised to be a gentleman. I've never liked you, but I never would… that is… this is very uncomfortable for me too," Draco stumbled. Hermione hadn't known him to become flummoxed like this before, at least not without bee's coming out of his mouth or fearing for his life. There was a knot in her stomach, and it grew tighter as she remembered that no matter what, they had to do this. They had no other option, now. They had to do this, and she was making it so much harder on him with her cowardice.

What was the matter with her? Was this really such a big deal? So many other witches were in the same position as her, tonight. Surely not all of them were shaking like a leaf and treating their new husband like a leper?

She eyed the potions warily, her walls beginning to break down. Draco kept talking.

"I don't think I can do this if you're going to start crying or something, got it? I really don't need more things to give me nightmares."

She looked up at him, and noted that he didn't seem to be speaking sarcastically at all. He was serious- he had seen some terrible things in his life, she was sure. The kind of person that could feel such guilt wasn't a bad person, and if you're not a bad person you probably don't want to feel like a rapist on your wedding night.

And honestly, when you got right down to it, that's what this was. That's what the Marriage Law came down to for couples all over the country. Rape. Mutual rape.

But now that the rings were on their fingers, there was nothing they could do. This had to happen. And if they couldn't do it on their own...

She looked back to the potions again and sighed. "I can't promise anything about how I'll react. I'm just… I'm scared." She grabbed the potions, handing one to Draco. "I suppose this is the only option left, then."

Draco looked instantly relieved, his shoulder sagging as he let out a long breath. "It's not as bad as you think- as I said, it's very weak. And it shouldn't last past morning."

"I know," she whispered, taking in the color and the little bubbles floating in the potion in her hand. "I can tell exactly what it is and its strength by the color." The pale pink shimmer made it obvious- it was a love potion.

She uncorked it, sniffing. No smells of longing, pressing at subconscious memories. Just… no smell at all. A clear indication that this variation wouldn't affect her actual _emotions_.

She frowned at it. "No rose thorns. Interesting." She looked at Draco, giving him a fake, encouraging smile. "It will only affect how we see each other, not how we _feel_." She felt relieved- she didn't want to wake up tomorrow remembering being in love with him, and knowing it was a lie. It would hurt, and she would feel as though she had been manipulated by her own mind.

"That's the idea." Draco muttered, uncorking his own bottle.

"Cheers?" Hermione tried, raising her potion and trying to keep her hand from shaking obviously around the bottle. Draco stared at the pink bottle, and after a moment raised his own, clinking it to hers before they both downed its sweet contents.

At first, she didn't feel anything different, and she began to wonder if the potion was _too_ weak. Then, building at a slow tingle, there was an unusual warmth that spread from her stomach, where the potion sat, reaching out to her whole body. Instantly, she felt more relaxed, happy. Her stress seemed to melt away, and why not? She already knew Draco wasn't a threat to her, and he'd said more kind words to her in the past five minutes than he ever had in the seven and a half years she had known him.

She looked at him, sitting next to her on the bed, and began to see things she had never picked up on before. She was definitely still lucid in her thoughts- she didn't love him, and she still found his eyes distant and guarded, but his hair looked a lot nicer to her now. She had drifted to that thought before, but now it seemed much more solid. His hair was a very shiny and healthy looking platinum blond… he must use good product in it. She wanted to touch his hair, to feel if it was as soft as it looked.

"I wasn't lying about what I said before," he said suddenly, dragging her attention away from the top of his head and down to his lips. They weren't too thin, just plump enough that she could imagine them brushing against hers softy, deepening into a real kiss unlike their pathetic one from earlier. She wanted to lean forward and kiss him just then, but she focused on his voice, hanging onto his every word with rapt attention.

"You have a very graceful neck once your hair is up and out of the way." His eyes grazed over her, lingering for a moment on her lips before meeting her eyes. "And your hair… I guess I didn't notice that the color is quite nice. Like-"

But he didn't finish, Hermione quickly moving forward to capture his lips with her own. She knew this wasn't what she wanted in her head, but her blood was suddenly running hot, and such lovely words were coming from his usually sharp tongue. She wanted to feel just how soft his tongue had become with the addition of the potion, so she deepened the kiss, grabbing the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

He placed a hand on the back of her neck once again, but this time his skin wasn't cold. His grip was gentle yet firm, and he kissed her back with the same passion she had initiated the kiss with. His lips moved, his tongue dancing with hers, searching her mouth, grazing against her teeth…

His other hand moved to the button holding the top cloak of her robes, pulling at it. Finally, she felt the cool air of the room against her bare shoulders, and she shivered. He broke the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as his hand moved to the back of her dress. "That's… an awful lot of buttons." He muttered against her, his warm breath playing over her face, one hand on the back of her head. His fingers started to tangle in her carefully braided up-do, and the slight tugging sensation made her breath quicken.

"Well, we're not muggles," she said back, and to her surprise and delight he smiled at her, the first genuine smile she had seen on his face in her memory. His smile was nice when it wasn't warped with hate or fake and plastic. His teeth were a perfect row of white. He reached into his pocket and gripped his wand, pointing it at the back of her dress. He muttered a disrobing spell and she felt the buttons pop open as quickly as a zipper, and just a little more of her skin was exposed to the open air. She still had the complicated underthings on underneath, to the point where even without the dress she would consider herself perfectly decent, but as the dress started to slip her potion-addled mind began to break through again.

This was actually happening. And she didn't mind, really. She found the sensation of his warm hands brushing over her shoulders, slipping down the high-necked dress, wonderful, and as his eyes drank in her skin with approval she smiled back. She liked that he liked what he saw. Even though she knew he would never find her attractive without a love potion involved, right then she felt beautiful.

She stood, helping to make the dress fall completely to the floor. Draco gulped, his eyes raking over her body as if wondering where to start. "That's… a lot of layers."

She unhooked the petticoat, letting it drop with her dress. "Yes, but I'll need help with the ties on the corset- I can't reach them and magic might snap the cords." She didn't want to ruin any part of her clothing- she was certain it was all very expensive.

Draco stood up and walked behind her, his hands working silently over the bindings of the constricting piece of clothing. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she felt it begin to loosen, letting her breathe once again. Before he was finished, however, he seemed to grow distracted, leaning down and pressing his lips to her neck, kissing down to her shoulder. She sighed happily, leaning her head to the side to make his task easier. His kisses were hot, and she could feel the trail he left as he moved, his hands still fumbling clumsily at the corset strings. His mouth drifted over her shoulder blades, and as he finally pulled down the thick material and let it drop to the floor his hands snaked around her waist, pulling her flush up against him. His tall frame enveloped her in an embrace that let her feel every dip and plane of his body, and she could clearly recognize his erection pressing hard into her back through his black tuxedo pants. She gasped when she realized what it was, her face growing hot.

She wondered what he looked like without clothing.

Currently, all she had on were the panties and garters that kept up her stockings, but her shyness was all but gone as she turned around to face her husband. Only curiosity remained, and a small undercurrent of nervous excitement she hadn't expected to find in her bewitched mindset.

His eyes grew wide as he took in her bare front, his hands still resting on her waist. "Well, can I change my earlier statement? I think your _neck_ is definitely not your _only_ intriguing feature."

She flushed, her hands moving up the front of his shirt, slipping up to his top button. "I have very little material to make any compliments in return, with you still so over-dressed," she said, unbuttoning his white collared shirt quickly without the use of a wand. She didn't feel like digging through the pile of fabric at her feet to find it, anyways. "Though, your hair looks very soft… can I?" she asked, raising her hand. She wasn't sure why she asked- she was currently halfway through removing his shirt, yet she felt the need to _ask_ to run her hand through his hair. He nodded, anyways, and she noticed a strange softness seeping into his eyes. They looked less flat, now, less artificial and cold.

She reached up, her hand caressing the side of his head and her fingers playing through his short, straight blond locks. It was pleasant, and the upward reach left her more open to Draco, who took the opportunity to lean down, pressing his warm wet mouth to her collar bone. It must have been the potion, but her body suddenly felt hyper-sensitive. Every spot he touched and licked and caressed made her hungry for more. She held his head against her, and felt herself tipping backwards onto the bed without fear. He struggled out of his shirt, popping the last button on the bottom in his haste as he crawled on top of her, pushing her back so her legs weren't hanging off the edge.

His head moved down quickly, taking one of her full heaving breasts into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it and making a sound come out of her she had never made before. It was a soft breathy moan, and she could feel a warmth unrelated to the potion in her belly start to spread from a spot below her abdomen, and the need to be touched intensified… she wanted his lips everyone at once, she wanted his skin pressed to hers, and she hated the rough feel of his pants against her stockinged legs. She removed her hands from his hair, quickly pulling off her remaining clothing with a little wiggling in between them.

Draco groaned as she moved, his eyes fluttering and his administrations coming to a momentary halt. He opened his eyes, looking down at her very nude form, his hands reaching out to follow everywhere his eyes went. "I was so wrong, Hermione. If I had known what was under your clothes, I wouldn't have dared call you anything but beautiful." His hand swept over her curves at her sides, tracing a dipping shape along her silhouette.

The words were almost sappy, though somehow could still be construed as mildly condescending. His voice was thick and heavy with need. She was certain this was the love potion talking, again, but she allowed herself to bask in his words anyways. She wanted to feel beautiful, just as much as she wanted to feel his hot skin against her own. She reached down again, pulling at the button on his pants.

Want. She wanted him. She wanted to know what it felt like to have a man inside her, to have him fill her completely, his gloriously slick tongue lapping lightly at her breasts as his hands swept over every inch of skin. Draco Malfoy, for that one night, was like a drug to her, and every caress brought her closer to something new and glorious that she couldn't quite define.

The last of his clothing was gone now, too, and he moved quickly back over her and between her legs. She brought her knees to either side of his hips, and again that nervous flutter pounded in her heart despite the potion's attractive properties.

He moved forward and all at once, almost too quickly for her to process, he was_ inside her_ and slowly sliding deeper.

She wasn't sure about size- she had no basis of comparison- but for someone like her, her felt very large, and she could feel her body stretching to accommodate him. She bit her lip, worried for the first time that what she had heard about sex- that the first time hurt- would be all too true. The earlier pleasure of his touch was quickly fading, and she was just left with a deep, uncomfortable pinching fullness.

He stopped, suddenly, looking down at her with an expression of bewilderment from under the small bits of blond hair that had swept across his eyes. He took in her face, scrunched with pain that cut through the fog of the potion. "You're…"

"Yes," she said hurriedly, clearly not wanting to talk about this _now_, of all times. Should she have told him before? Would it have changed anything? He seemed shocked, and she suddenly felt like she had made a mistake not mentioning that she was a virgin. What had he expected? She was always more interested in her studies than dating, and in the end she had always thought she would find someone who truly loved her to be her first.

He groaned, leaning on his elbows at either side of her head. "Just relax." he said, as he pushed forward quickly, burying himself to the hilt inside her wet core.

She felt a sharp pinching pain and cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders and her nails biting his pale sleek skin. She closed her eyes, the pain cutting through the happy fog in her mind and making their situation crystal clear and sharp. It was almost enough to invite back her earlier fear, and she felt her breathing grow erratic with panic instead of need. "Draco…" she said, and he kissed her forehead, whispering.

"It's supposed to be like this- don't worry, it'll feel better in a minute. Just wait."

She nodded, appreciating the sweet words the potion put in his mouth now more than ever, and tried to keep calm and let the potion take over again. He kissed her face, and finally made it down to her mouth, his tongue sliding with her own as she returned the kiss. It made everything else slip away, and she wasn't sure if it was the passage of time or the rekindling of the heated kiss that made her begin to enjoy the pressure inside her. As the pain faded, her fear once again returned to a distant memory, pushed out by the magic working on her mind. She moved her hips slightly, and the slick feel of him inside sent her heart racing. The happy fog was back, and all she knew was the bliss of Draco Malfoy inside her.

He moved against her, his own hips pulling back and then plunging in. She let out a moan of pleasure, soft as a sigh, as she angled her hips to meet his movements. The pain was very much gone, now, and something else seemed to be building inside her- the pressure of the delicious friction between them was moving through every nerve in her body, and the longing seemed to only grow as his pace quickened.

All at once he grabbed her hand, bringing it down to the point where their bodies met before placing his elbow back up by her head to recover his balance. "I don't think…" he huffed, his pace becoming slower and his eyes closing. She let out a disappointed groan as he stopped, taking a deep breath. His eyebrows were drawn in concentration as he spoke, his words syrupy and slow. "…this will last much longer. The potion and all…You should make sure, you know… you enjoy yourself too."

She was too focused on the fact that the pressure had stopped building to worry about how embarrassed his statement should have made her feel. She wiggled her hips against him, her fingers obediently moving over the soft nub in front of where their bodies met. She hadn't had sex before, but she was certainly capable of bringing herself to orgasm. She never thought that would be a priority of Draco's, and she saw no reason why the potion would make him care about how this night was for _her_, sexually.

She wasn't about to argue, though, and as he resumed his quick pace, she rubbed at herself, the pressure building faster than before at her own administrations. Her sounds of pleasure increased, and she found herself making small cries with every thrust.

And then, all at once, it was like a bubble inside her burst open and a burning pleasure coursed through her body, every nerve alive with the incredible feeling of her orgasm. She rode it out, her back arching slightly off the mattress as she cried out softly. She opened her eyes, watching as Draco hovered over her, pumping his last few thrusts before burying himself deep, his head leaning down to the crook of her neck as he met his own end.

They stayed like that, both breathing hard, for several moments, before Draco rolled to the side, lying down next to her.

She wanted to talk, while the potion was still in effect. She wanted to hear more words from Draco's drugged brain, something she could hang onto in what were sure to be extremely difficult months ahead. Years, maybe.

However, the days of sleepless nights finally caught up to her. It was so warm in the bed, and she pulled the comforter around her in a cocoon, suddenly feeling all her exhaustion in one satisfying moment lying next to Draco Malfoy.

She drifted off into a dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: The Sudden Change of Heart**

She was still there in the morning. Even knowing about the potion, he assumed she wouldn't want to wake up next to him and would instead slink out of the room after their activities were over. Then again, it was likely no one had showed her where the guests rooms were… he wasn't even sure where his mother planned on housing his new wife, though he hoped it would be on the_ other side_ of the Manor. He would have to speak to her about it today.

She seemed to be sleeping very deeply when he woke up, and thankfully this time she was not snoring. Her hair had come partly out of her braided wedding hairdo, and some of the frizziness had managed to stubbornly return to her brown locks. No, not brown… as the sunlight filtered in through his window, he noticed something he had seen last night- there were different levels of color in her hair, some strands catching the light in lighter, shiny latte-colored streaks.

He shook his head, sitting up. He wasn't going to just sit there and watch her sleep… he assumed there must still be some last dredges of the potion in his system, to make him notice such trivial things. He stood up, sliding out of bed quietly so as not to wake her. He'd rather be far away and dressed before she woke up, so he wouldn't have to deal with the awkward shivering female he had seen in her last night. It was too weird, seeing brutish, smarty-pants Hermione Granger acting like she was afraid of him. There was a time, given different circumstances, when he might have appreciated the idea. But not now, and not under these circumstances. It had been… very unsettling.

He walked quickly to his wardrobe, digging around for something to wear. He threw on some pants, and was just reaching for a robe set when he heard a groan from the bed.

He closed his eyes, cursing silently.

"Draco?" she asked, and he turned around slowly. She was holding the comforter around herself guardedly, but she didn't look scared or upset. She just looked tired, and as if to demonstrate this fact, she yawned loudly, holding one hand to her face and allowing part of the blanket to slip just a little lower.

Yes, there definitely had to be some part of the potion still at play.

"You can sleep as long as you'd like. Today you'll be shown to your own room. When you are ready for breakfast, just say so out loud." He hurriedly grabbed at some black robes, throwing on the shirt and the top robe as quickly as possible.

"Oh. Okay," she said quietly, and once again he looked over. _Now_ she looked uncomfortable. "I, uh… I don't have anything to wear." She was eyeing her crumpled wedding dress on the ground warily, and Draco was certain she didn't want to wear _that_ ever again.

He sighed. "I'm sure my mother has already sent for your things at Hogwarts. They should be in your room- I'll have someone fetch something for you." He was trying to be as polite as the situation called for, while still making his escape as quickly as possible.

She nodded. "Can you hand me my wand?" she asked, and after a moment's hesitation Draco nodded. He dug in the hidden pocket in her wedding gown, producing her delicate vine-wood instrument. It was, he reflected, the same color as her hair when the sunlight hit it.

"Thanks," she muttered, and before he could turn away she pointed it down at her blanket-clad form.

He jumped, feeling suddenly shocked, and without thinking grabbed her wand-hand with his own.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, feeling enormously frustrated. Must they talk through ever little detail that ought to be obvious? He didn't want to have a complicated conversation with her this morning- he just wanted to send her on her way to a far-away wing and not have to look at her.

"I should think that would be obvious," she answered, her tone suddenly icy.

"Yes, it is obvious- and what point can there possibly be to it?"

She raised her eyebrows questioningly, her head held high. "Draco, I think the point of a contraceptive spell should be blatantly obvious, just as our need for one is. Or do you have some problem with contraceptive spells in general?"

"Don't be daft," he muttered, and, realizing he was still gripping her hand, let go. "I can't exactly stop you, but think of how much easier things would be for us if by some small chance you managed to conceive last night?"

"Con…conceive!? Have you lost your damn _mind_!?"

His irritation reached new peaks, and he walked away from her and towards the window with his arms crossed. He just wanted to shake her for making him actually say it. "Look, you know damn well that a child would solve all of our problems very quickly…."

"A WHAT!?" she yelled, coming to her feet with the blanket still clutched around her. "Are you being serious right now? I thought we talked about this- neither of us wants a child."

"Well, no, I don't want to _try_ for one, Granger!" he yelled back, forgetting about their new "first name basis" status. "But wouldn't it be more convenient to just allow the possibility to exist?"

She was livid, now, and he patted his pocket to make sure he had remembered his wand. With a groan, he noticed it sitting on the bedside table where he had placed it after… after last night.

Shit.

He changed tactics, controlling the anger in his voice and appealing to her logic. He couldn't make her too angry until he got ahold of his wand again. "Think about it, Hermione. If we comply with the Law and have one- just one- child, then we're free! And there's no point freaking out anyways. The chance is so small…"

"I don't want even a small chance!" she snapped. "You think a child will solve things? Use your brain Draco- it's not a new broom you can afford to give away when the next model comes out. It's a child."

"I guess I didn't realize you thought so little of me, Hermione. Of course, it would be well taken care of…"

"_Taken care of_!? What, will you give it its own wing, too? You are the last person I would ever think would make a good father for a child, you selfish git!"

Okay. He knew he hadn't managed to maneuver covertly around to his wand yet, but that last comment stung. Probably more than he expected it would. He narrowed his eyes, his hands curling into fists. "What did you just say?"

She blinked, and he knew she saw that her words had had an effect on him. "I didn't mean… Draco, how could you possibly _want_ this? I mean, how would you feel about our child's… blood status?"

He scoffed, trying to forget about her comment and the hot anger still fuming inside him. "Half-blood is not _so_ bad. It would have Malfoy blood, so it would be a Malfoy. Once again, do I have to remind you that I'm not some kind of monster, Granger?" He was failing at covering up his anger, and he wasn't sure how much longer this conversation could go on before he said something he would later regret. He had to get his wand, and leave the room.

He made a move towards it, but Hermione stepped into his path, blocking him. She really was too smart, sometimes.

"And what about me?" she whispered. "I would be cut from the equation?"

"Sure. Whatever you want- you could just forget about this whole thing."

Her eyes narrowed, and he realized he had said exactly the opposite of the thing she wanted to hear. "It. Would. Be. My. Child. Too," she ground out through clenched teeth. She looked wild, now, her eyes fiery and her hair sticking up in all directions from what was left of her up-do. She grabbed his wand off the table, holding it handle-out towards him. "Take it, Draco. We're stuck together until this Law blows over…"

He snatched his wand hurriedly, snarling his next words. "You act like this will be temporary!" he held up his hand, the silver ring obvious on his finger. "These things bind us to these rules. The Law will not be repealed so quickly- I can almost guarantee that your flighty optimistic views of the Ministry as an organization that listens to reason and puts individuals above the greater good are nonsense! This is _permanent_, and you should stop living in your fantasy world where everything will be okay and back to normal before long!"

He was breathing hard by the end of his tirade, and Hermione suddenly seemed to deflate, sinking back onto the bed with the blanket clutched very loosely to her chest with the hand not holding her wand. She seemed to be thinking deeply, her eyes on the floor and her eyebrows drawn.

He was ready to turn on his heel and leave the room, the argument his, when she looked back up and spoke so quietly it was almost hard to hear.

"I won't risk a child on this hopeless situation. I won't bring a child into this mess. Not even if the chance is very small." She pointed the wand back at herself, muttering the quick words to the contraceptive spell.

Draco frowned, but made no move to stop her. He couldn't stop her if he wanted to, and ultimately it was her call.

"For someone who pretends to be so smart, you're acting like an idiot," he said, ending the conversation on a less than mature note, and stormed from the room.

...

Was she an idiot? She understood the _logic_ of what he had been saying, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Sometimes you had to consider other people's feelings, and Draco was not at all good at that.

And they had _talked_ about it, at Hogwarts! They had both made it clear that they wouldn't have a child- his exact words were "I don't want to have a child _like you_."

What had made him change his tune?

She shook her head. Just when she thought that they understood each other, at least as far as this marriage went, he went off the handle.

She raised her wand and said, "Accio my trunk," opening the door to allow it entrance. She had no idea where her things were kept, and she seriously doubted Draco would have them sent to her now. In the distance, echoing in the nearly-empty house, she heard a loud "thud!" and a cry of pain followed by expletives that could only be Draco's. She smiled, not at all unhappy that her hurtling trunk had obviously managed to express her frustrations better than she could.

When it arrived in the room she dressed hurriedly, stubbornly putting on her most "muggle" clothes possible- jeans and a light blue hoodie. The house seemed like the type one would wear shoes in, so she slipped on her sneakers, too. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a ravaged mess, and so she took a few more minutes to make it manageable, tying it up in a ponytail. She would have to find somewhere to take a shower… she had no idea where to even begin looking. She certainly felt dirty…

The potion had made last night not only manageable, but also extremely satisfying. She could admit that to herself: She had enjoyed it. However, there was something hollow in her chest, something that grew with each word he had spoken to her that morning.

Everything was back to normal. She didn't expect him to suddenly change, or anything, but he could at least have left her with the _illusion_ that he cared.

She realized, as she thought to herself and looked in the mirror, that not only had this been her _first_ time… it could very well have been her _last_. She blanched, the idea absolutely horrible. She couldn't sleep with him again. In fact, she was fairly certain it would take her some time to completely sort out her feelings about last night. Everything felt tangled up inside her, and she felt like she had somehow betrayed her own heart, leaving a gaping hole.

At the same time, she couldn't ever sleep with someone else. Oh god… what if this Marriage Law did last her entire life? The ring on her finger ensured fidelity. She couldn't find someone to truly love… unless she had a child. And she wasn't going to go down that road. Everything she said to Draco had been true- she wouldn't use a child as a way out of her marriage. They were stuck with each other, for better or for worse.

"Invenientas, bathroom," Hermione muttered, flourishing her wand. A small stream of levitating glitter appeared, pointing her in the right direction. She followed, levitating her trunk behind her. She'd feel better after she was clean, and then she'd try to find her room… her _wing_, if Draco could be believed.

She never planned on going back to his bedroom again.

...

"Right this way, my dear," Narcissa Malfoy was saying, still affecting her polite, almost motherly attitude. Hermione once again wondered if this was the real Narcissa or not, but she decided she'd prefer fake kindness to true cruelty from her mother-in-law. She followed.

She had managed to get cleaned up and back in her muggle clothes. Upon wandering aimlessly through the house, however, she had run into Narcissa. The look on the women's face as she took in Hermione's appearance… well, it hadn't been pleasant, but she had managed to cover up her personal feelings about _jeans_ quickly enough as she put an arm around Hermione's shoulders.

Now she was leading Hermione to her part of the house, past portraits of puffed up, indignant relatives who made constant comments about how her presence insulted them. She didn't reply, and neither did Narcissa.

"Mudbloods, in our great family. Oh, what has it all come down to!? The last heir of our line trapped by such scum…"

"Filthy. Look how it clothes itself- how shamefully revealing! In my day, a young woman would not wear men's trousers…."

She didn't reply, but she did find it hard to completely ignore their hurtful comments. She kept her head high, and hoped that there were no portraits where she would be living.

Sure enough, when they came to a long corridor devoid of artwork Narcissa turned to her, smiling. "Your room is the last door down this hall. There's a connecting bathroom, and all the amenities you could need have been seen to." She smiled. "Feel free to explore- this whole area of the manor is rarely used, and from here on…" she pointed down the corridor. There were several rooms, and at the end sunlight was peeking through a large window. It had to be a sunroom of some sort, but she would explore later. There would be time. "…is all yours. No one will bother you down here, if you don't want them to. Malfoy Manor has many security spells- I had to learn about them when I first arrived, too! Imagine my surprise as a young girl to invite my friends over and have them get zapped unconscious by a simple trip-spell." She shook her head, smiling as if there was anything remotely funny about the memory. "Anyone who carries the Malfoy name- as you now do- is immune to any of these spells. Please remember that if you ever want to have a guest, you must physically touch them in some way as you pass the threshold of this house. That includes apparating- you can apparate to your corridor, but others only can if you side-along with them. Understood?"

Hermione nodded. She had expected security spells of some sort, and the last thing she wanted was for her friends to get zapped or splinched.

"What about parties?" she asked, thinking of the wedding.

Narcissa waved a hand in front of her face. "If you're going to have many guests, let me know. I can drop security to let people through in cases like this. It is a pain, though, so please keep any parties you might want to have at a minimum."

Hermione doubted she would want to invite many friends to this lifeless house, but she nodded anyways, thanking Narcissa for the directions.

The older woman looked like she was about to leave, then stopped. She opened her mouth to say something, stopped again, and finally said, "Let me show you the parlor up ahead. It has a wonderful view of the back gardens- there's a quidditch field out back, too, if that's an interest of yours…"

Hermione laughed forcefully, shaking her head. She followed Narcissa warily, wishing that she had just left her alone. Hermione didn't feel like being in the company of anyone just then, let alone her mother-in-law. "I'm actually not a big fan… I cheer on my friends, but truthfully I would often sneak a book into the less important games of the year as I'd get bored."

Narcissa sniffed, stepping into the bright room. Hermione saw there were windows everywhere, as well as a piano, a nice little table, sofa's fit for tea with friends, and a door leading out to a patio. "Personally, I don't think a proper witch would bother with such things. It's such a violent game, really…. Broken bones from bludgers and falls. I tried to talk Draco out of playing, but boys will be boys… his father thought 'real wizards' play quidditch. Though I suppose there are a lot of things Lucius told Draco 'real wizards' did that I disapproved of…"

Hermione stared. Was she referring to Draco becoming a Death Eater? Surely she was… Hermione had never really given much thought to Narcissa's role in the war, other than her eventual betrayal that saved Harry's life. It was all to protect her son. Surely a mother like that wouldn't have wanted her son getting involved in the first place?

Narcissa sat down on the couch, patting a spot next to her. At this time, Hermione's curiosity was piqued enough that she wasn't too disappointed that Narcissa was clearly not leaving yet. What more might she learn about Draco's character from this woman? Knowledge, Hermione had always felt, was power. Any power she could have in this relationship was welcome.

"Hermione, I feel I have a rather… delicate question to ask you..."

Oh, this could not be good.

"… about your future with my son."

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "I don't want to sound disrespectful, Mrs. Malfoy…."

"Narcissa."

"Right. Narcissa. But you do know that neither of us are very happy about this. We don't… I mean, there won't be a future for us. There will be a future where we both live our own lives the best we possibly can. That's the plan."

Narcissa nodded a little too enthusiastically. "Of course, of course. I understand your feelings perfectly. You know, among older Wizarding families, arranged marriages are actually quite common…"

Hermione tried to look shocked without appearing mocking.

"So I think Draco always expected that he wouldn't love his bride- at least not right away. But you, poor girl… this was certainly a surprise for you, I'm sure. Parents try to make the best match they can for their children, a match where love can eventually blossom… I remember how lonely I felt in this big house when I first came here, but in the end my parents were right: Lucius was the one for me. Anyways, I'm aware that you and Draco are… ill suited. Love just won't be possible between you two."

Hermione agreed, but didn't answer. She was feeling a little insulted, because she could crack Narcissa's clever code: By "old" wizard families, she meant pure-bloods. By "ill-suited," she meant that Hermione was muggle-born. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. Nevermind the fact that they both had clashing personalities and very different views on the world at large- it was all about blood status to people like Narcissa. To people like Draco.

"I think it would be in both of your best self-interests to try and make this as quick and painless a marriage as possible."

Quick and painless? Her eyes widened, and she stared at Narcissa as her mouth fell open. "Quick? What are you talking about?"

"Well… I had heard that you were very well-read. I assume you know all aspects of the Marriage Law? I mean, of course, that you and my son should produce an heir."

Hermione could only continue to stare, shocked at the audacity of the woman before her. No doubt she had chosen the word "heir" to sound enticing, to express exactly what Draco had said: that it would be well cared for, a Malfoy no matter what.

And now she suspected she knew who had put the words in Draco's mouth.

"I want my son to be free to pursue… other witches he may be more suited to, in the future. Of course, you should be free too. And there's only one thing that can provide that kind of future."

"I see," Hermione said, folding her hands neatly in her lap. She wanted her to have a child with Draco so that Draco could be free to have good, true, pure-blood children later in life. Hermione seriously doubted the validity of the promise that any child of hers would be treated like a true Malfoy, if that happened. She was disgusted with everyone around her.

She had to be calm. She would argue with Draco, but something told her picking a fight with her mother-in-law on her first day here would not bode well. "Draco and I have already discussed this. It's not something we want."

That should have been the end of the discussion, but Narcissa frowned, her voice just a little less pleasant as she answered. "Is that so? Strange. It seems to me that only last night Draco had seemed to agree with me on this. I'm surprised you wouldn't be more _anxious_ to secure your own freedom from this law?"

She wanted the truth? Hermione would give her the truth. "Draco suggested that I don't use a contraceptive spell this morning, and that's the first I had heard of his little change of heart. I, however, have had no such change in my opinion. I don't want a child."

"So you used the spell," Narcissa said, sounding extremely displeased.

"I did."

Narcissa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. All pretenses of cheeriness had dissolved. "But you drank the potion."

"That's… that's private," Hermione said, remember the love potion. Then a thought occurred to her… the potion was different from the usual love potions she had seen. She knew there were many, many varieties in the world, and it suddenly occurred to her that it might have been _more_ than it appeared. She gasped, staring at Narcissa in horror. "It was a fertility potion too, wasn't it!?" she said, just a little louder than politeness called for. She didn't like being bewitched without her prior knowledge. She wondered if Draco had known that bit of information, then decided it was probably better for her sanity that she didn't know.

Narcissa nodded. "I thought I was helping. Apparently, my efforts were wasted on someone too young to realize just how much a loveless marriage will affect her life."

"And my efforts to be civil were wasted on someone who drugged me without asking my opinion!" Hermione said, standing. "I'm sorry Narcissa, but I think I'm not feeling well. I'm going to my bedroom, if that's alright."

The woman on the couch looked livid, but she nodded. "Of course," she said sharply, indicating the entrance to the corridor. "This is your wing of the Manor; you may do as you please."

"Thank you for your _generosity,_" Hermione said. She thought her parting shot may have been just a touch childish, but she was done trying to hide her true feelings from people who didn't even really care what they were.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Wow! I have such eloquent reviewers! So many high quality, well thought-out reviews make me suuuuper happy! Thanks guys- you rock! Double upload day today! _

_I'm super busy with work this week (coming up to Christmas and Winter camp at a Hagwon in Korea. Rough times). So, no more double upload offers this week, since I am obsessive about editing the best I can before posting (though I still would LOVE reviews! Like, fo realz! It's not like I check my phone every hour or anything, desperately hoping to see the little number tick up... nope. Not I, said the cat)._

_..._

__We start to get a little more into "plot" territory here, though there is some nice Draco introspection. __

...

**Chapter 10: The First Day Back**

The week went by quickly. Hermione used the time to explore, but didn't venture too far from her corner of the mansion. She did manage to find a few rooms that, she had to admit, could almost make this house livable for her. For example, one of the rooms in her wing was clearly a brewing room- there were cauldrons of various makes and models, and shelves of finished potions along the walls. She checked the dates- none of them were expired, so someone was clearly keeping their eyes on the stores. Hermione suspected House Elves, though she had yet to see any.

The potions room had a very well-stocked closet, too, and she could really see herself picking up potion-making as a hobby after Hogwarts. It was always something she enjoyed doing during her years at Hogwarts, even though their education on the subject had often been a stressful experience.

After a couple days, she managed to stumble upon a library that made her dizzy. She had opened the large double doors, expecting to find the ballroom from their reception, but instead had been met with rows and rows of tall dark polished wood bookshelves, filled with hundreds of tomes. It was certainly as big as their library at Hogwarts- at least, as far as the book-count went. In actual size, this library was far bigger and more open.

She did notice a few shelves that were oddly devoid of books, and Hermione could only imagine that books on dark magic had once held those spots, before Ministry raids. Of course, maybe she was just thinking the worst… but books on dark magic were hardly beyond her imagination for the Malfoys.

In any case, she spent most of the rest of her week away from Hogwarts in that library, and she found herself forgetting where she was quickly as she dug in.

Whenever she found herself hungry, she would return to the sun-room and find her meal carefully prepared, still warm and waiting for her. Again, she was certain House Elves were behind this, but she still couldn't find any. It would certainly take an army of them to keep this house clean, big as it was.

When the weekend was over, it was time to go back to school. She hadn't seen Narcissa or Draco since that awful first morning, and she didn't plan on seeing them now. She packed her trunk up neatly, and apparated herself to the front gates of Hogwarts as early in the morning as her ring would allow.

…

"Hermione!"

Ginny had been groggily making her way down the staircase from the girl's dorm when she saw the girl levitating her trunk in through the portrait of the fat lady. Ginny had planned on getting up early for this exact reason- she had hoped Hermione would come back at the earliest opportunity.

She ran the rest of the way down, flinging herself at Hermione and making her drop her trunk. As she did she yelled, "Why didn't you invite me too!?"

Hermione hugged her back. "Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry. I just… didn't want to cause any fights."

Ginny shook her head, rolling her eyes. "So you chose to bring _Harry_?"

"Harry can be level-headed when he wants to be."

"Yes, but the minute he got back here he was in such a mood! He's been sulking around all week, kicking himself for not grabbing you and apparating the hell out of there."

Hermione sighed, and Ginny knew some part of her friend wished the same thing.

"Is everything… alright?" Ginny tried, leading Hermione to their usual spot by the fireplace. Hermione seemed a little tired, but otherwise her regular self. She was smiling happily at seeing Ginny, though her eyes didn't quite match her expression.

"Oh, I'm fine. I've just been a bit lonely this week… though I did manage to read through the most interesting book on theoretical transfiguration from 1890…"

Ginny smiled and shook her head. Either Hermione was putting on a brave front, or books really were far more interesting to her than her own troubles. "How did you get along with people… at that place?" Ginny tried. She wouldn't rest until she got the truth- Hermione didn't have a lot of girl-friends, and the boys certainly weren't going to make her fess up her feelings.

Hermione avoided her eyes, sending her trunk up to the top of the stairs on its own even as she sat lounging on the sofa. "I did have a bit of a row with both Malfoys, if you must know. Narcissa is every bit the manipulator her son tries to be."

Ginny's eyes widened, and curiosity caused her to pry further, despite the fact that Hermione was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "What happened!? What did she do?"

Hermione shook her head, sighing. "Ginny, I'd rather not get into it…"

Ginny folded her hands in her lap, biting her tongue. "Right. Sorry."

"No, I… oh, very well. She wanted me to break off the marriage contract with Draco as soon as possible, if you catch my drift."

Ginny gave her a blank look.

"You know… the only way one can apply for divorce?" she said irritably, looking sideways at the red headed girl. "Oh, Ginny, haven't you read any details of the Marriage Law?"

"To be honest, it didn't apply to me, so I only know what's been in the Prophet," Ginny said sheepishly. "But if there's a way to divorce that git, surely you'll take it?"

Hermione stared, and Ginny knew she had said the wrong thing. "No. The way out is to have a child, Ginny."

Ginny gasped. She supposed it should have been obvious- that _was_ the point of the Law afterall, wasn't it? "Oh, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm sure you made your feelings quite clear, right?" she added, her mischievous smile clearly indicating her knowledge of Hermione's skills at jinxes and curses when the situation called for it. They were _almost_ as good as her own.

"I tried my best to politely tell her to 'screw off,' actually," Hermione said, mirroring Ginny's conspiratorial grin. "But if it comes up again I just might have to prove how serious I am. Truthfully, I didn't see either of them for most of the week. Hopefully I'll never have to come in contact with them again."

Ginny tilted her head to the side, thinking. "Then why didn't you just come back to Hogwarts? I mean, I know technically the week off was for people to get situated in their new households, but really… why do you _have_ to _live_ there?"

"The partner with the most assets is labeled 'Primary Provider.' Obviously, that's Draco. His house is where I have to live." She held up her hand, brandishing a very dull, plain silver ring.

"So, the ring keeps you from even leaving? Did he come back to school with you?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's a timed, object-attached portkey. The object in question is my husband's ring. If the ring senses I'm not within the same household as my husband on any given night, then at midnight it will pull me to him."

"Oh," Ginny said. It was all rather unfair- even in an arranged marriage, spouses didn't have to stay in the same house _all_ the time. What if Hermione wanted to go on a trip? What if she wanted to stay the night at her parent's for Christmas? "I'm famished." Ginny declared, suddenly changing the subject to something less heavy. She could tell the conversation was starting to wear Hermione down. "Let's go find breakfast, shall we?"

Hermione smiled, nodding appreciatively. "That sounds like an excellent idea."

...

Draco was never much for introspection before the war. He never stopped to analyze his past actions, except when they came up in context. However, since the days of his family's fall from Voldemort's good graces, and the horrors that Draco bore witness to in his own home, he had often found himself second guessing many things about his life. He would look back and wonder, again and again, if he had _really_ thought through most of the choices he had made in those days, and imagined what his life would have been like if he would have just changed a decision or two here and there.

The past week had given Draco an awful lot of time to think. At first, he was annoyed with Hermione. His mother's advice, afterall, had been sound. They could have been free of all of this, without even having to so much as touch each other again.

But after a day, he began to think about his initial misgivings on the subject. He had _told_ his mother that even if he agreed to having a child with that disagreeable girl, there was no way she would submit to such an idea.

By the third day of his quiet time at home, he was even angrier with his mother. Hermione and him could maybe have, at the very least, become colleagues of sorts in this marriage of convenience. They could have managed to stand each others company, perhaps even had discussions now and then, if not for his mother's interference and the resulting argument. It wasn't something he had wanted at first… but having someone who could act as a companion would be better than having a bitter enemy roaming the halls. It was like there was an angry ghost down a corridor that was now forbidden to him. It made him uncomfortable in his own home.

Then, the fourth day rolled around. All alone, studying his Arithmancy book, it occurred to him that he was most angry with himself. He _let_ himself be manipulated by his mother. Why couldn't he make his own decisions, even when he knew they were right? He knew- _knew_- that having a child with Hermione would be a very bad mistake. There was no way it would be anything but messy. The very idea, the more he thought about it, was morally reprehensible. What had he been _thinking_!?

By the time he returned to Hogwarts, he was a mess. Some voice in the back of his mind told him to apologize to Hermione, but what would be the point? They would never be _friends_, and he was certain he didn't want to face her. The classes they shared together for the rest of the school year would be torture, but afterwards he could just pretend that part of the house didn't exist… he'd have to use another room for potion making. Or just buy his potions from now on.

He groaned at his stressful thoughts, letting his heavy trunk drop to the foot of his bed with a loud angry "thunk!" Theodore Nott poked his head out of their shared bathroom, giving him a questioning stare.

"Fun week?" he asked, eyeing Draco's trunk. It had fallen at an angle, and Draco kicked it so it lay straight against his bed. So many of his fellow Slytherins were such damn neat freaks, and the loud noise he had made had obviously not been appreciated, either.

"Fantastic," he snapped back, stepping towards the door to the Common room.

"Hey, Draco, wait," Theo said, walking out of the bathroom and following Draco out into the empty common room. Everyone was surely at breakfast by now- it was why he had decided to come to school a little later. He wanted to be left alone.

Draco didn't respond, instead walking towards the exit. He'd go to breakfast- better to be pestered by a group of his classmates than by Theodore Nott alone. He had a bad feeling he knew where the conversation would go.

"Will you just listen a moment!" Theo said, jogging up to the door and blocking Draco's path to it. Draco frowned, squaring his shoulders and drawing himself to his full height. He attempted to look down his nose at Theo, giving him his best sneer.

"Get out of my way."

"Draco, come on now. We've been roommates for years- friends, even. I just need to talk to you about something important."

"About my marriage?" Draco asked bluntly. "I'm afraid that I can't help you with whatever it is you want, Theo. If you recall, I'm still on probation. As are you," he raised his eyebrows challengingly, daring Theo to deny it.

Draco knew what Theo wanted. Theo wanted Draco to join their little group of secret Death Eaters. He wanted Draco to hand over his new wife, and it wasn't the first time Draco had heard of it. His mother had talked with him some months ago about the Nott's involvement in the now withering Death Eaters, and even his father in Azkaban had written to specifically tell him not to get involved with them.

Like he needed to be told. The Malfoys didn't make a habit of choosing the side that would obviously lose, and the Death Eaters without Voldemort were just a revenge crusade, waiting to be caught by Aurors. It was a hopeless cause.

On top of that, Draco had made himself a solemn promise. That night, when his parents had found him in the crowd at the battle of Hogwarts… when he had watched Potter triumph over the Dark Lord in a way that was almost freaking poetic… he had made a vow to himself. Never again would he allow himself to be branded. He would never let hate define his life, because the results were just too crushing. There was too much weight on his soul already; he didn't need further association with torturers and murderers.

He was so tired, at such a young age.

Theo rose to the challenge, crossing his arms over his chest. "Draco, you know you are the only one with the power to help us now. We had a plan- I don't know _why_ you petitioned for her, but you ruined that plan by doing so. I'm afraid that, this time, if you are not helping us, you're against us." His eyes flashed, and his voice lowered as he stepped a little closer. "You can help us - we're much better at keeping things quiet, these days. Nothing will be connected to your family. We just need access to her…"

Draco scoffed, trying to sidestep around Theo. Theo slammed an arm across the door, blocking Draco's path with a growl. "Listen- we will view your actions from now on in one of two ways: Either you give us the mudblood bitch, or you're protecting her. Which is it Draco? Will you really protect an enemy to the cause?"

"What _cause_?" Draco hissed, his hand resting on his hip close to his wand. "There is no cause, Theo. There's no need to hurt people anymore. So why are you still so interested in doing so? It's. Over."

"It is not over!" Theo yelled. "Not until my father can walk down the street again without the fear of arrest, not until people like us are not still thought of as criminals! Just because we lost a battle, does not mean we lost the war-"

"Yes it does! And either way, I'm not interested! I'm tired of this shit, and unless you plan on having a duel here in the common room, you had better move the hell out of my way."

Theo shook his head sadly, and with a great sigh, he stepped aside. "If that's your choice, so be it. Keep in mind: I won't ask you again."

"Great," Draco muttered, and walked quickly out the door, trying to ignore how his heart was racing. The minute the door shut behind him he ran, all bravado and pretenses of control gone.

If it came down to a duel with Theodore Knott, he couldn't be sure he would win. He _might_ win, but it wasn't as_sured_. And any situation where he might end up losing his life was one to run far away from.

…

Hermione dragged her feet on her way to Arithmancy. It was her third class of the day, and the only one she shared on Mondays with Draco. She knew NEWTS were coming up, and she had to focus once again on her studies. The Law library in the Room of Requirement was nothing more than a past excursion- she knew there was nothing left to be found there. It was too late to matter. Her task now was to pass all of her NEWTS with flying colors, which meant she couldn't risk missing even one more class.

Arithmancy was not the most exciting or popular class Hogwarts offered as an elective. The study of how numbers were integral in the inner workings of magic was above many student's heads, and the long complex homework number charts were enough to drive most potential students off. Almost the entire class was comprised of Ravenclaws, though there were four Slytherins, one Gryffindor, and a couple of Hufflepuffs thrown into the returning-seventh year mix.

Hermione arrived on time, but she could have kicked herself for not being early.

Draco was in the front row, and whenever Hermione had classes without her friends she preferred to sit close to the Professor. She sighed, taking a spot at the back reluctantly, noticing that several pairs of eyes gave her brief looks and turned to whisper to their neighbors, pointing to the front where Draco sat, his book open as if he were decidedly trying to ignore the room.

Hermione wasn't the only focus of attention, however. When Terry Boot arrived in class, the whispers starting again. The two Hufflepuff girls were near Hermione, and her ears were burning.

"Do you think the Marriage Law will be applied to Half-bloods, too?"

"Why would it? Wasn't the point that muggle-borns and pure-bloods have the most magical children?"

"I guess… there's Terry Boot! Can you believe he ended up with Greengrass?"

"He actually _petitioned_ for her!?"

"Apparently he waited too long- it was her, or a bunch of witches pushing forty…"

"Oh, poor guy… remind me to find a boyfriend soon, in case they announce a half-blood amendment to the Law. Maybe we could all just pull a Potter and be relatively safe."

"Hannah! You sound as devious as a Slytherin, plotting ahead like that."

"Well, I'm not going to be paired up with some jerk just because of his blood-status! Can you imagine? You heard about Granger, right?"

The other Hufflepuff slapped Hannah's arm, gesturing to Hermione with a nod. Hannah looked up, realizing the girl in question was just a row behind her. "Oh, uh… hi, Hermione!" She lifted her book, gesturing. "Hell of a homework assignment last week, huh?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, turning back to her book and pretending to read, just as Draco was doing. She hoped class would start soon, so the gossip would be cut off.

The announcements had been made one week ago at dinner. Everyone knew, so there was no point trying to deny that her marriage had been extremely unfortunate… but she'd be damned if she would feed the rumors by acting brooding. Throughout the class, she asked questions as usual, took notes, and otherwise tried to act like her regular, unaffected self.

The moment Professor Vector released the class, she sprang to her feet, meaning to bolt out the door. However, she noticed how her quick movement caught the eyes of the two Hufflepuff girls. As they flashed her a look of pity, she made like she was fixing her hair, patting at it and retying it back in a ponytail before walking slowly and nonchalantly towards the door. She wasn't going to act like she was fleeing- she had nothing to run from.

...

Hermione sat down at dinner, and her friends descended on her.

"Hermione! Why didn't you have breakfast with us? Where have you been all day!?" Ron chastised.

Harry frowned. "Ginny said you were here early…"

"Yeah, I guess I was just busy," Hermione lied, filling her plate up with food. The truth was, obviously, that she didn't feel like being badgered by questions and concern from her friends, as she had by Ginny only that morning. She appreciated that her friends cared for her- but it was just too much to handle right then.

"And… and everything's okay, right?" Harry asked, and she looked up at him, plopping a scoop of potatoes onto her plate. She remembered his little speech to Draco at her reception and smiled.

"Everything's fine, Harry," she lied, not wanting to tell him how easily his words had been ignored.

He looked a little suspicious, and Hermione had to conclude he'd been talking to Ginny. Damn.

"Ron," she said, changing the subject, "how are things with you and Mildred?"

Ron reddened, but he was smirking down at his plate, so she was fairly certain his week had gone better than hers. "The Law puts precedence on _magic_ holdings, so I was chosen as the 'Primary Provider.'"

Hermione tried to hide her surprise; Mildred must not be from the most financially stable home for the Ministry to assign them to live in the Burrow. While Hermione herself would much prefer the cozy setting of the Weasley home to Malfoy Manor, the crowded house may have been a little much for a girl who wasn't expecting it.

Ron shook his head, continuing. "She seemed to get along well with my family- afterall, my mum was absolutely mental with worry over Ginny, and when she and Harry strolled through the door together…"

"You didn't tell Mrs. Weasley about you and Ginny beforehand!?" Hermione asked Harry with a gasp.

Harry looked a little sheepish. "Ginny insisted it would be a fantastic surprise…"

"She wanted to make mum a little crazy- I think she got Fred and George's sense of humor.," Ron added, grinning. His smile faltered as he realized he had mention his deceased brother, and the light hearted conversation faded into silence.

"Anyways, you got along with Mildred alright?" Hermione asked, trying to steer the conversation clear of painful subjects.

"Uh… yeah. We got along alright. She's a big fan of Wizard chess, actually…"

Hermione nodded, taking a bite of her pie, thinking. Wouldn't it be nice if her and Draco had something in common? She could never see them becoming friends… but if they could have at least gotten along alright, her future might have looked less bleak and lonely.

...

_A/N: So, one reviewer had a point about Ron freaking out. However... I think he would have freaked out plenty when Harry first told him. By now, it's a moot point. Honestly, I have never been a big Ron fan, and I think that he would focus on his own issues more than his friend's as long as it didn't seem like an emergency. So, please don't be too disappointed if Ron doesn't blow up like some of you were expecting. Honestly I just don't like to write him very much. He's not interesting to me..._


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Friendly reminder- this is a double upload day. If you're reading this chapter without reading chapter 10, you might wanna scoot on back. I saw yesterday a lot of views skipped on to the latest chapter because I think I confused people._

**Chapter 11: The Common Enemy**

The next day, she had exactly two classes with Draco Malfoy, but at least one of those classes included Harry and Ron. With her two friends beside her in Transfiguration class, she could pretend that she barely noticed the blond boy sitting next to his Slytherin friends. She imagined he would do the same, but on the rare occasion that she did look across the room at him, she found him looking at her. Once, their eyes met, and all at once she was filled with an irrational embarrassment, her cheeks reddening and her body slumping down to hide behind Harry.

Her friend frowned at her, whispering, "What's wrong?"

Ron, unfortunately, had also noticed. He leaned over from across Harry. "Want us to go hex him, Hermione? Just give us a reason."

She didn't know if the idea was funny or mortifying, but the fact that their whispering called attention to their new Professor, Bartholomew Bunson, was certainly reason to make Hermione groan.

"Is there something you would care to share with the class, Mr. Potter? Weasley? Granger? Something more important than the delicate and precise movements needed for proper Conjurations at a N.E.W.T level?"

All eyes were on them, now.

"Malfoy," Nott called up from his place in the front row, and Professor Bunson's head snapped to him.

"What was that?" he asked, as confused as the rest of the class.

Nott's lips curled into an unpleasant smile. "You called them Potter, Weasley, and Granger. It's Potter, Weasley, and Malfoy, now."

A very eerie silence descended on the room, broken only by the clearing of the Professor's throat. Hermione looked over at Draco, expecting him to be giving her a horrified gaze, but instead found him glaring down at Nott, his hand in his robes where she knew he kept his wand. "Right. Well, anyways, try to focus on the lesson you three."

The Professors where fully aware of how thorny the whole Marriage Law situation was among the student body. There were many students affected by the Law- both the actual seventh years like Ginny and the returning students like herself. The horrifying education received at Hogwarts last year was voided, and in order to take NEWTS most students had chosen to return. She was certain the Professors had all grown quite sick of teaching their seventh year and technicality-seventh year students, and dealing with the gossip and sudden silences. Although this was the only case so far she had noticed where the issue had been thrown in anyone's face like this. She mirrored Draco, sending Nott a scathing look.

Just because her last name had changed, didn't mean she necessarily had to be called Malfoy the rest of the year, right? Couldn't she have the few remaining months of her school career with the name "Granger" associated with praise on her Professor's lips?

"We could change that hexing offer to include Nott," Ron mumbled, quietly as he could, and Hermione rolled her eyes in the most affectionate way possible.

...

She had one more class with Draco: Potions. As with Monday, she sat in the back, avoiding the blond boy in front. She noticed that Nott sat a little a ways from Draco… or perhaps that was visavera?

Draco looked back, noticing her setting up her book and cauldron, and, much to her confusion, he moved to stand up, his bag in tow.

She watched him, hoping she could ward him off with her eyes, but no such luck. Either he didn't notice the look of venom she shot at him, or he didn't care. He put his things down directly next to her, setting up his own cauldron for class.

"Just what are you doing?" she hissed, looking around her. Sure enough, just about everyone was sneaking peaks at the two of them, heads bent in quiet conversation. What on earth could they be saying? What rumors were flying about the room at that moment?

"I need to talk to you," Draco murmured.

"Not now!" Hermione answered, realizing even as she said it that it was the exact same words Draco had used on her weeks ago, when she urgently needed to speak with him about the Law. She had ended up hexing him into meeting with her… She sighed. "Okay, what do you need to say that couldn't just be sent by owl?"

Draco looked a little annoyed at that, his mouth set in a small frown. "We see each other every day. You don't think sending an owl would be a little ridiculous? There's no secret anymore."

She agreed, but she still felt her face heat up when she caught a snippet of loud-whispering from across the room. Nott was talking with the other Slytherins, and she heard the term "lover's quarrel" quite clearly.

"Watch out for Nott," Draco said, and he sounded deadly serious as he set his mouth in a grim line, looking down at the Slytherins.

The way he spoke put Hermione into all-business mode, and she found her embarrassment and discontent fizzle into nonexistence. "Is he dangerous, even now?"

Draco nodded, his movement barely perceptible. Hermione looked back to Nott, and saw that the boy was giving them an intense, calculating stare. When he noticed her looking back he grinned, but his eyes still held something darker in them. She shivered, but all of their attentions were suddenly drawn to the front of the class, where Professor Mulgick had begun to write their assignment for the day on the board.

Hermione let her gaze slip sideways after she had copied everything down in her notebook, watching Draco write. "Thank you," she whispered, standing up to get the ingredients she would need for the day.

Draco must know more than just that. Sure enough, when she came back to her seat there was a note sitting by her cauldron, even though Draco had already begun to carefully slice his flabberghasted leeches into thin slices. Nott was stealing looks back at them now and then, and she began to realize that anything they said might be overheard.

She grabbed the note discretely, looking at it under her desk.

"Law Library, after dinner," Draco had written across the rip of paper. His handwriting was very neat and full of little flourishes- she suspected he was quite good at calligraphy. Maybe that was his hobby?

Once again, she began to wonder if the two had anything in common other than, apparently, a common enemy in Theodore Nott.

...

"So, you really think Nott's a Death Eater like his father?" Ron asked as the trio made their way to the Great Hall for dinner.

Hermione nodded. She wasn't interested in sharing her emotional problems with her friends, but when it came to actual physical dangers she didn't play around with words. "I think so. Draco's warned me away from him. I'm meeting Draco later to find out what he knows…"

"Seriously?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Right," Ron agreed, pointing at Harry. "What he said. How do we know Malfoy isn't working with Nott, anyways? Am I the only one who's going to point out that that's a possibility, here?"

Hermione glared. "He's not," she said, with enough conviction that she almost scared herself. Since when did she believe anything Draco told her? He had lied about his intentions on their wedding night, afterall… who's to say he wasn't lying about this, too?

No. She couldn't believe that. "McGonagall corroborated his story when she first told me he petitioned for me. She told me his family wouldn't hurt a hair on my head, since I was part of a plan to make them seem less hostile in the public eye. I was basically like a great big sign, declaring ,'We're not Death Eaters anymore!'" She shook her head. She remembered how Draco seemed genuinely upset at the thought of her crying when they were in bed together, and she decided that he hadn't deceived her about _everything_. "He wouldn't hurt me."

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, a fact Hermione noticed immediately to mean that they doubted her sanity. "I'm serious!" she said, stopping short in the hall. "I would be the first to use a host of unpleasant words to describe Draco, but in a strange way I trust him."

"With your life, Hermione?" Harry asked, and she met his eyes.

"Remember what you said, Harry? He owes you a life debt. If you don't trust my judgment of his character, at least remember that we learned how powerful such a debt can be."

Harry nodded, looking defeated. "Okay. But at least let us go with you to your… meeting, tonight."

She grimaced, thinking about how Draco would react to that. He'd probably get defensive, and Ron would probably pick a fight, and then Harry would probably end the fight with a stunning spell…

But she couldn't think of a tactful excuse to say "no."

"Okay." she said, her voice strained."Sure. Sounds… like a good plan."

...

Draco paced. He needed to tell her about Nott's threat for two very understandable reasons.

First, if she were to be killed after marrying into his family, it would look very incriminating. No matter what Nott said to try and entice him into joining their little group, there would be no reconciling the Malfoy name with the rest of the Wizarding world if the muggle-born under their care were to somehow vanish.

Second- and this is the part he still had some trouble working through in his mind- he didn't _want_ her to get hurt. Okay, he _never_ wanted anyone to get hurt, not really, but in the past if someone wasn't part of his immediate circle he would never bother putting his neck on the line to help them out. By denying Nott his assistance and continuing to associate with his wife, he was clearly putting himself at risk right alongside her.

And that kind of behavior was atypical for him. Why should he put himself at such risk? Surely his family name wasn't worth anything if Nott decided to target him… again. He was fairly certain that Nott's father was in part responsible for the attack on Malfoy Manor last summer, shortly before his father's trial.

He didn't really have a plan for dealing with the problem, but he thought a whispered "Watch out for Nott" was probably insufficient warning. He wanted to meet with her so he could express just _how_ dangerous Nott was.

The door opened, and he whirled around, his pacing coming to a halt. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" he asked, bewildered.

Harry. Fucking. Potter. Why was it always Potter? Did the guy have some kind of divination powers that told him when he could be most annoying?

Hermione poked her head around him, and he groaned. She had brought her friends. Which probably meant-

"Oi, Malfoy!" said the ginger boy, pushing past the others and brandishing his wand. "If you have something to say to her, you can say it in front of us."

He was downright irate at this… intrusion. This was between him and Hermione! Why would she bring in her blockhead friends!? "Really?" he said, a smirk plastered on his face. He felt the need for a little vengeance- after all, she had asked for it. "Is that true, Hermione? I can tell your bodyguards here anything? Like, how about we talk about the look on your face when you cu-"

"Boys!" Hermione snapped, stepping into the center of the room in front of Weasley's wand. She glared at him, and miraculously, he lowered his wand, looking ashamed.

Apparently, Hermione had a way with scaring _everyone_ with a single look, not just Draco.

She turned to Draco, a whirl of black robes. "And you! Don't rise to his bait! Say something you'll regret and I'll never let you forget it."

He didn't doubt that. She seemed like the vindictive type.

She stepped a little closer to him. "Insult me, Draco, and you'll only make yourself look foolish."

Again, she had a point. Though it was disconcerting that she seemed to understand him well enough to know that was exactly the right thing to say to make him grow quiet.

"Draco," she said, sighing as she let out a deep, exasperated breath. "I'm sorry- I know you didn't expect them to be here. But when it comes to serious problems like Nott, I trust my friends with all the information. Now tell me, what made you suddenly so concerned?"

Draco glared over her shoulder at Potter. "Nott made me an offer. He wanted me to hand you over to him."

"I knew it!" Ron said, his wand rising again. Draco raised his in kind, and looking between the two, Harry began to reach for his own.

Hermione groaned loudly, hands on her head. "Can't you boys calm down for five minutes!? I don't believe Draco was finished speaking, were you?"

Draco shook his head, not taking his eyes off Weasley.

"Then finish. And lower your damn wand."

He looked at her like she was crazy, his wand staying firmly in the air.

"Draco. I promise you, if Ron casts a single unprovoked spell," she glared daggers at her friend, "then I'll cast the same hex on him I did on you not long ago."

Despite himself, Draco grinned. That was a suggestion from a dream, and he almost wanted Weasley to stun him now. He lowered his wand, giving Weasley a pointed look and imagining his mouth full of bees from his own friend's hex.

"Hermione…" Ron started, sounding hurt.

"Oh, quit it. You all make me so crazy, you should be glad I'm not sicking canaries on you already!" She stamped her foot, and turned her fury on Potter. "And you! Why are you just _standing_ there!?"

"I, uh…"

Hermione turned back to Draco. "I'm not going to keep turning around in circles to talk to you all-"

"You mean _yell_ at us," Draco said, now finding the show thoroughly amusing.

"-so everybody just _sit down!_"

She sat behind Draco on one of the chairs by the coffee table, looking around expectantly. Potter quickly joined her, sitting in the chair nearest her. Draco conjured a chair of his own adjacent to them, and Ron stood stubbornly, leaning against the wall by Potter's head. Hermione cast him a frosty look, but didn't comment further.

"Now, Draco… you were saying?"

What had he been saying? Oh, right, Theo… "I'm not sure why Nott wants you, but I'm certain it's not pleasant."

"And what did you tell him?" Potter asked calmly.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I told him I'd have my wife wrapped up in a Christmas box on the front lawn of the school. What do you think I told him? Do you think I want to get mixed up in all," he waved his hand around with a disgusted look on his face, "that?" He shook his head. "I have no idea why I need to calm _your _fears, Potter, but if it makes you feel any better I'll point out the obvious: Hermione is a Malfoy now. Let's just say, for argument's sake, that I'm a complete monster, and I don't care if she lives or dies." Ron snorted at that, and he was ignored, "I would _still_ make sure Nott wouldn't get her. If a Malfoy can't take care of their own, then what use is he?" He knew he had heard his father use those same words at some point, but he couldn't remember when. They rang true, though, in this situation. "It would be an embarrassment, a mark on the family, to let anything happen to her. Add to that the fact that the Ministry is watching us like hawks and that we're trying to improve our image, and you have a pretty good case for my innocence in this plot."

Hermione was giving him a very strange look, he noticed. Like he was an Arithmancy problem and he had just given her a number to fill in… he didn't like it. He didn't need her scrutiny and assessment. He wasn't homework.

"So, Nott wanted your cooperation, and you turned him down. I'm guessing he won't be too happy about that…" Potter said, thinking.

"No shit," Draco answered. "He made it quite clear I was his enemy, and I happen to know what their lot does to their enemies. I know better than most, actually."

"Are they really that powerful?" Hermione asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched, a small wrinkle appearing between them on her face. "I thought the remaining Death Eaters were scattered?"

"Oh, they scattered all right. But then they began to realize that the Aurors were picking them off one by one. They found safety in numbers, and have been in hiding in some secret place until they find a target to go after."

"Like your parents," Hermione said.

How did she know about that? "Yes. Like my parents. My father gave up a lot of his former friends to get his sentence reduced, and they knew he was going to do it. It was no secret what my mother did to save you, Potter, since obviously you're still alive, and my father hadn't even had a wand during most of those last battles. The Wizengamot already had reasons to be lenient- they let my mother off with a few fines, but my father was surprised that despite his testimony they still sent him to Azkaban." Draco shrugged. "These _ro__gu__e_ Death Eaters tried to sneak into the Manor- they got pretty far, actually, considering we have a number of security systems. One of them managed to trip a Caterwauling Charm, thankfully. The whole family was on house arrest , and the Ministry had put up that particular alarm to make sure we didn't have any guests. No connection with Death Eaters.

When the Auror's arrived, they found my father, with my mother's wand, throwing killing curses left and right. He only got one of the bastards; the rest got away. The Aurors were at least sure that the Death Eaters were our enemies, now, though they didn't look kindly on my father casting unforgivables."

He stopped talking, realizing everyone was looking at him with rapt attention. Why did he feel the need to blab on like that? This was none of their business.

"So," Weasley said from his spot by Potter. "is your mother safe right now?"

Everyone turned to look at the boy and he shrugged. "What? He's a git, but if Death Eaters are his enemy then I guess that makes us on his side, right?"

Draco snorted. "The enemy of my enemy… fantastic. I'm glad we have such a touching camaraderie here. For your information, we reset many of the security spells on the Manor. The reason they could get in was because they knew how to bypass the spells from the days when… when our house was a safe haven for all of the Dark Lord's subjects. Malfoy Manor is completely secure now."

Hermione was still giving him that same calculating look, only now he sensed the slightest hint of pity mixed in. Did she think he was pathetic, having his own home broken into by his former associates? Did she wonder where _he_ was while his father was fighting for their lives?

He looked away from her, feeling disgusted.

"Nott wouldn't try anything at Hogwarts," Hermione said, a finger to her chin in thought. "Not when he could get caught, anyways. It would be bad if either of us gets cornered alone, though."

"Won't happen," Potter said clearly. "We'll take turns walking with you to your classes, Hermione."

Hermione gave them a side smile, looking a little admonishing. "Harry, I'm not worried about me. I always have you two or Draco in my classes." She looked at Draco, and again he found himself completely disgusted by the pity in her muddy brown eyes. "Draco, can you stick close to your friends for the rest of the year?"

Weasley shook his head. "His friends? Aren't they all Death Eaters, anyways?"

Draco could feel himself reaching a breaking point with this little inquisition, and he was ready to leave. They weren't discussing anything of use- it was all just about questioning him, and this comment about his friends was the last straw. "I think that's about all I can take," he growled, jumping up from his seat and stomping towards the door.

He walked out, hearing Hermione scolding Weasley behind him while simultaneously trying to talk him into staying.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: Thanks to the helpful advice of a reviewer, I learned how to properly punctuate dialogue... So... I went back and fixed all my old chapters. This is why I write fanfiction- if anyone ever looked at my old stuff they'd be shocked by how horrible I was a couple years back. I like learning and improving. I really take every review into account, so always make sure to point out things you like and don't like! I remember that stuff, and make use of it in my later fics (or sometimes in the current fic)!_

_..._

_Kou Shun'u: I try to place this story in the 90's, where the books end (is that 99? I believe so). I later mention renting a movie, which is really the only hint. _

_..._

_This next chapter is hella exciting, I think. It was certainly fun to write!_

_..._

**Chapter 12: The Right Hook**

Hermione wasn't completely sure how she felt about their little meeting. She was deeply disappointed in everyone's ability to behave, but she understood that her friends just had her best interests at heart. Afterall, why should they trust Malfoy? Even with all the reasons given to them, he was still Malfoy- thorn in their side and general rival to Harry since their very first year.

She was glad that Ron had started to see eye to eye with her on the Malfoy issue near the end, but why had he called all of Draco's friends Death Eaters? Hermione knew Ron had a tendency to speak without thinking, but it really was an insulting statement.

And then, as she lay in bed, she began to think about what Draco had said, about her being a Malfoy. For all the Malfoy's flaws, they really did have one thing in common with her and her friends: family was a priority. That's why Narcissa saved Harry, that's why they didn't participate in the Battle of Hogwarts, and that's why Draco wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her.

Well, one reason why.

He had said it would be embarrassing if something happened to her, but she was beginning to think that maybe, somewhere in that selfish cowardly exterior, there might actually be a decent human being hiding out. The thought scared her a little; it was so much easier to just think of him as an opportunistic jerk than a person with a heart.

Because if she knew he was _capable_ of doing some good in this world, she would eventually _expect_ him to do so. And, in the end, she knew she would be disappointed.

…

Transfiguration went very much the same as yesterday, though it seemed that perhaps Nott would keep his mouth shut. Draco sat far down the row from them, but Hermione was relieved to see that Parkinson and Zabini were close. He was following her advice afterall.

She saw Parkinson flashing a particularly nasty look Nott's way, and then whispering something to Draco, who nodded in return. He must have told them at least a little of what was going on with Nott, and for whatever reason he trusted them. Hermione had seen the two with Draco many times in the past, before he was a Death Eater and after. She hoped her suspicions were correct, and that they were real friends to him and wouldn't turn to Nott for personal gain. You could never tell, with a Slytherin.

Was she a little prejudiced?

She remembered how Parkinson had tried to sell out Harry last year and shook her head. No, she had plenty of reasons to distrust that girl.

Parkinson noticed her watching and wrinkled her nose, whispering to Draco again. Hermione whipped her head back to the front, embarrassed at being caught watching them.

Being closest to the door, Harry, Ron, and her made it out of the room first at the end of class. She noticed there was a group of actual seventh years waiting, Slytherins, and when Nott popped out of the door he greeted them happily. More friends, more people she had to worry about.

"Hey, former-Granger!"

She knew it was Nott's voice, but she didn't dignify him by turning around. She kept walking, Harry and Ron at her side.

"Did you cry when Draco fucked you? Or did he cry, having to look at that ugly mudblood face while he did it?"

There was a moment of stunned silence from all students present.

The group around him suddenly started to cackle like hyenas, like it was the funniest thing he had ever said. Hermione heard a girl nearby them gasp, and other students still coming from the classroom paused, blocking the door, not sure how to react.

Hermione heard her blood pounding in her ears, deafening her to everyone around her. Her friends, the crowd- all she could see was Nott. They were just words… but they had hit their mark. She felt them twist around her heart as sure as if he had used a knife, and very, very slowly, she turned around.

He was wearing a cold smirk, mirrored by his little group of followers, as he waited for her reaction.

She walked right up to him swiftly, and Nott laughed, turning his head over his shoulder to make some remark to his cronies. He probably expected her to make an angry retort.

In retrospect, she would wish that that was what she did.

Instead, she pulled back her fist, and let it fly, connecting with Nott's fat mouth with a disturbing, crunching sound.

The non-Slytherin students in the hallway, who had previously been struck silent by the comment made by Nott, suddenly started to chatter. The rush of blood and adrenaline pounding through her made it impossible for Hermione to really listen to what they were saying, though she was fairly certain they were cheering her on.

Everything happened very fast after that.

Nott's fist slammed into the side of her skull, knocking her right over onto the floor.

Thinking about it later, she knew she had it coming. She had started the fist fight, afterall. She should have pulled her wand, a course of action that put witches and wizards on equal ground. Or, better yet, she should have just ignored him and taken the mature route. Nott had grown a bit since their earlier days at Hogwarts, and running around on missions with his father had apparently helped his build. She was no prize fighter, and putting an average 120 pound girl up against nearly 200 pounds of muscle was a losing bet.

Why had she lost her temper and acted so stupid? Surely that's exactly what he had hoped she would do?

That same girl who had seemed so shaken by Nott's vulgar words stumbled. "Y… you just hit a _girl_!" She cried out, just as two twin steams of red light shot across the hall and into Nott's belly, knocking him backwards.

"Hermione!" Ron said, coming to her side.

She was having a little trouble concentrating, and Ron's face above her seemed to be a little fuzzy around the edges. She groaned, feeling nauseous.

In her peripheral vision, she thought she saw Nott's crew pulling wands, probably at Harry. Things were about to get serious, and it was all her fault.

"WHAT IS GOING ON OUT HERE!?" yelled Professor Bunson, bursting out the door along with what remained of the class inside.

"He _hit_ a _girl_!" that same voice said, and Hermione began to think that whoever it was, she had led a very sheltered life. She seemed downright hysterical at the violence erupting around her.

"She started it!" someone said. Probably a Slytherin.

"But he _ended_ it- look at her!"

"Vile," said the unmistakable high voice of Pansy Parkinson."Resorting to muggle violence." Hermione was sure the comment was aimed at her, being the muggle-born in this situation, until the small-framed girl added, "Did Theo forget that he was a _Wizard_?"

Of course, being knocked unconscious by both Ron and Harry's stunning spells, Nott was not up for commenting. The Slytherins from their own year, however, murmured their assent, moving just a little closer to the snub-nosed girl and a little farther from Nott. It almost looked like there was a Civil War brewing in Slytherin, and people were taking sides. Nott hadn't made new allies today.

"Mr. Weasley, please take Miss…Hermione up to Madam Pomfrey. Mr. Lerenger, Mr. Gamp? Do the same for Mr. Nott, if you please."

Two of the younger Slytherins accompanied Nott down the hall, levitating him in front of them. Ron waited a minute, unsure. Going up alone with Nott's friends would not be smart, and Nott would be completely fine after someone "Rennervate"-ed him.

"I'm going with you," Harry said, kneeling down to help Ron pull her to her feet. She faltered, clinging tightly to Ron as she felt her sense of equilibrium tilt to the right. She was very dizzy, but she could walk if she leaned on her friend, Harry walking close to help out if she fell.

She could feel the eyes of everyone on her back as Professor Bunson started asking other students for details of the incident. She had no doubt detention was in her future.

"You're bleeding," Harry said, and with a shaky hand she reached up and touched her forehead. She looked down at her fingers, feeling oddly detached.

"Oh," she said calmly, continuing to focus on walking straight.

...

Draco watched the two boys helping Hermione down the hall, feeling shaken. For all his words of 'Malfoys take care of their own,' there wasn't a hell of a lot he could do. Not while they were at school, anyways. Draco wasn't about to pull a wand on Nott unless there was absolutely no way around it, and yet Hermione had walked right up to him and decked him like a common brawler.

Not that he didn't already know about her temper, first hand.

"As I was saying," Zabini muttered, "You can't train a muggle-born to act like a proper witch or wizard. That's just what they are."

Parkinson sniffed, throwing back her hair haughtily. "Well, then we can't _blame_ the little mudblood, can we? Nott, however, is out of control. He's making a bad name for us all- anyone associated with him is _poison_, as far as I'm concerned."

She swiveled on her heel, and Draco watched her walk away, a little amazed. He knew she was loyal to him, and she was very good at manipulating words to twist situations to her advantage. Other Slytherins from their year were paying close attention to her, and he saw Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode with their heads together, nodding towards Pansy's retreating form with approval.

Draco was feeling as though he had been stunned. He was completely unsure of how he should react- he was angry, he knew. He could feel it bubbling from the moment he saw the trickle of blood on her face where Nott's ring had torn her skin. She wasn't much, but she was _his_. His name was hers. There was a matter of pride to be settled here.

On the other hand, there was fear. Fear for his own life, of course, but something else too. When he thought of Nott, he thought of him finding Hermione alone somewhere… he flashed back to that small trickle of blood, and ground his teeth. He was afraid _for her_. Not just because of his pride, but because he didn't like seeing her hurt.

Of course not. What kind of person would?

And yet… he felt he had a personal investment in her, something more than the other gossiping students in the hallway, now moving off to their respective classes.

With a sigh of resignation he left Zabini wordlessly with a small wave, heading in the direction of Madam Pomfrey's.

...

"Why would you _do_ that?" Harry asked, sitting down next to her bed. They had chosen to be as far across the room from Nott's group as possible, but Harry still looked over his shoulder repeatedly, making sure they weren't pulling any wands.

"What do you mean, _why_?" Ron blurted. "I think he got exactly what he deserved… well, no. Maybe a few curses too. A Furnuculus, or an Orchideus up his…"

"That's exactly my point," Harry argued, folding his arms. "You could have flattened him with your wand work, Hermione. That's your strong point- plus you would have had us as backup. We were both so shocked that you actually _hit_ him…"

"I have no excuse…" she mumbled, her words coming out slow and labored. "He just… really pissed me off."

"And punching dumbshits has worked so well in the past," Ron added brightly. Almost on cue, Draco stepped through the door of the infirmary, looking warily at the spot near the door where the Slytherins were gathered. He skirted them, heading in Hermione's direction.

"Speaking of which…" Ron muttered.

Draco reached them quickly, giving Harry and Ron polite nods. As if this wasn't strange enough, when he turned his eyes to Hermione they looked… pitying, almost. Like he actually cared that she was in pain.

Of course, that conclusion could be a result of the concussion she no doubt had. Madam Pomfrey was in her cupboard, grabbing potions and bandages, and Hermione wished she would hurry so she could think clearly.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked, keeping his voice even and calm. But Hermione could sense the tension behind his words- for some reason, Harry was not happy with Draco. Even less so than she would have expected, anyways.

"I'm here to make sure she's alright," he said simply. "I should think that would be obvious."

"Oh, I wasn't aware you cared. I liked your little speech about watching out for her- you could pursue an acting career after school, you know."

"Oh, please. Save me your biting remarks Potter. What was I supposed to do when she acts like _that_?"

"_She_," Hermione said, "is sitting right here. Don't talk about me like-"

"You can't judge her- you don't even know what he _said_," Ron snapped, interrupting her.

"Again, I'm right here…"

"Is this because I didn't join your little stun-spell duo? Because I didn't see you two stopping her from acting like an idiot, or stopping him from hitting back."

"You could have at least drawn your wand, you useless git!"

"Enough!" Hermione yelled, sitting up abruptly. All at once she saw stars dance across her eyes, and felt herself fall back against her pillow without meaning to.

Madam Pomfrey 'tsked,' walking up to the bed with an arm full of tonics and potions. "I thought I asked you to lie down and not speak?" She glared at each boy in turn. "Miss Granger will need her rest- I want all of you out of here. Shoo!"

"Malfoy," Hermione mumbled. Her brain felt scrambled, and she closed her eyes against the dizziness.

The boys had stood up to make their way to the exit, but Draco stopped. "What?" he asked, his frustration obvious.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she said again, correcting Madam Pomfrey deliriously.

...

"What _did_ he say?" Draco asked, curious. He had a feeling he wouldn't want to hear the answer, but he had to ask the question.

Potter just shook his head, but Weasley sputtered, "We're not going to _repeat_ it! Go ask your Slytherin friends, why don't you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. He could only imagine what Theo could have said to make Hermione so furious. She was fairly used to mudblood comments by this point, he expected, and she always seemed to be generally thick-skinned about anything to do with her blood status. He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "So, you think it's a good idea to make this comment a topic of conversation in my common room?"

Ron flushed, his mouth gaping.

"It had to do with you, obviously," Harry said, shaking his head. "And it wasn't flattering. If she hadn't punched him, I would have stunned him anyways."

"Same here!" Ron added.

Draco looked back and forth between the two boys. He was pretty sure he had a good idea of what was said, now, though he still didn't think it was worth starting a fistfight. "You people focus on words far too much. He was trying to goad her, no doubt, into doing something stupid. And it worked. My house has a knack for that- I would think you would be used to it by now."

"Hermione's taken a lot of shit from you and your friends over the years here, Malfoy- we all have. Doesn't mean that she's immune. Words can hurt, especially when they hit close to home," Harry answered. He was standing tall- he looked immovable, staring Draco down with very serious eyes. Draco knew that this was the reason Potter was a leader. Potter could use words, too, to manipulate people in subtle ways.

In this case, he was trying to remind Draco of his speech at his wedding. Trying to make Draco feel ashamed for the way had treated her over the years…

"Potter, I don't know what Nott said, but Hermione's been treated well at Malfoy Manor. She will continue to be treated well. Your guilt-trip can end here, because I haven't done anything to earn your wrath." He rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently, wanting to return to his friends at his next class. "Not recently."

"Just watch yourself, Malfoy," Harry said, and he stepped uncomfortably close to the taller blond boy. "Don't give her any reason to want to punch _you _again, because you'll get it three-fold."

...

Madam Pomfrey had given her something to sleep, and forced her to spend the night in the infirmary. She had received a potion for her concussion, one to reduce the swelling around her eye, and another to prevent bruising. A small bandage covering the cut made by Nott's ring was all that remained as evidence to her earlier state, and she was glad she wouldn't have to face her peers tomorrow looking battered.

She was so embarrassed, by so many things. Nott's cruel question, her own inexcusable behavior, and the fact that she had asked Madam Pomfrey to call her Mrs. Malfoy.

She covered her face.

She was glad that Madam Pomfrey had sent out Nott and his friends the moment she had woken him up. She knew Harry and Ron were waiting outside to make sure, and she heard their voices when the Slytherins exited. No doubt words were exchanged, but at least she didn't see the tell-tale flicker of curses from under the door. That had to be a good sign, right?

Now, it was five in the morning, and she was all alone. She felt much better; well-rested and no more throbbing headache. Still embarrassed, by physically better.

She stood quietly, grabbing her things. She wanted to head up to Gryffindor tower and change her robes before classes, but she wasn't sure if she was actually free to leave yet.

She tip-toed out the door of the infirmary, bag in tow.

And nearly stepped on Draco Malfoy.

She let out a surprised squeak, stepping back. He was sitting against the wall opposite the double doors she had just exited from, glaring up at her with dark-rimmed eyes.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, looking back over her shoulder to make sure Madam Pomfrey wouldn't come bursting from her office.

"Well, I couldn't go in, could I? Pomfrey has the place locked up for the night from inside, and "Alohamora" wouldn't cut it."

"Ok… but _why_ did you want to get in?"

He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, groaning. "I couldn't sleep."

"You couldn't sleep," she repeated, her tone flat.

"No. And when I woke up, Nott wasn't in his bed. He didn't even have the curtains drawn to try and hide it- amateur."

Something started buzzing in Hermione's mind as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Coming from anyone else, she would have thought he was worried about her- enough that he'd sit outside and play guard for her all night.

That just didn't make sense.

"You… how long have you been here?"

He shrugged, struggling to his feet. He stumbled, grabbing the wall for support and shaking his foot. It must have fallen asleep. "Since… maybe midnight? One? What do I look like, a clock?"

Her mouth fell open slightly, and she saw his eyes fall to the gap.

"What? Don't give me that look, like you're so surprised I can do something nice now and then."

"So you _did_ do it to be nice? To… to protect me? You were worried about me?"

She expected him to deny it, but he only scoffed, looking around as if hoping the stone walls would give him a witty retort.

"What if Nott had come down here- you're all by yourself! Why wouldn't you bring at least Pansy with you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Forget it. I'm going to get breakfast early…"

"Wait, I'm being serious! Why didn't you get help?"

He whirled around, facing her. "And what should I have said? 'Hey, would either of you like to come sit on the cold stone floor and watch a door for a few hours in the middle of the night like you've lost your damn mind!?'"

She knew her shock at his kind gesture was only making him defensive, and she shook her head as if to clear it. Draco. He watched out for her.

In some small way, he was trying to be nice.

"Thank you." She said finally, pulling up what she hoped was a sincere smile. "I… I appreciate that you…"

He whirled back around, walking heavily down the hall away from her without waiting for her to finish.

"…care."


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thanks you for the reviews guys! I'm super sick right now, and Wednesday was my hard day at work, so it was nice reading comments throughout the day to get me through (ever try to teach a room of hyper 5 year olds when you're sick? It's not fun =.=) _

_..._

_ chacusamucuskilier: If you check the wording on the conversation with Ginny, you'll see that the two only have to be in the same "household." The ring will pull her to Draco if she's not in the same household between 12-6. Hogwarts counts as one household and so does Malfoy Manor, so they do not have to be closer than that. Sorry if it was a little confusing! I try to release information in bits instead of one clump so it comes more natural. There's still a few more things to learn about their rings..._

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**Chapter 13: The Witch and the New Wardrobe **

The next couple months were fairly eventless- Hermione managed to avoid any more confrontations with Theodore Nott, and she assumed Draco did the same. NEWTs were coming up, and she was far too busy studying to worry about something as silly as a death threat.

Nott himself seemed to be avoiding them, actually- his actions had lost him a lot of respect with those who might otherwise have been closer to him... which Hermione oddly suspected had something to do with Pansy Parkinson. While the Malfoys were not as respected by many pure-blood families these days, somehow most Slytherins seemed to get the idea that Nott was much worse, and much more dangerous.

She knew the internship with the Ministry would require Arithmancy- she would be working with the Goblin Liason Office if she got it. It would probably be wise to review her History of Magic textbooks, too. Then the Metal Charmer Apprenticeship would require an Outstanding in Transfiguration and Charms….

She still didn't know what she wanted to do more, but she would be able to put her applications into both positions after her NEWT results were in.

They had only one more week to study, now. Hermione sat with Harry, Ron, and Ginny at their usual spot in front of the fireplace, Hermione quizzing the boys on the history of the Ministry's various offices, a topic they were sure would be on their History of Magic exam.

"Which committee spearheaded the cover-up in the breach of the Statute of Secrecy when Walter Wolder famously released singing crocodiles into the sewers of London in 1922?"

"This one's a trick question," Ginny added, supportively, as she looked at the answer over Hermione's shoulder.

"Ginny, you should be studying too."

"I study better on my own- I hate to be quizzed. Makes me more nervous."

Hermione shook her head, sighing good-naturedly at her friends. Ginny would be taking her NEWTs this year, too, being an actual seventh year student.

"Er…the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes?" Ron tried.

"Very good Ron! But that's an "E" grade kind of answer; give me more specifics."

"Muggle-worthy excuse committee?" Harry tried, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, not quite. The trick with questions like these are to not try and memorize answers, but rather to use your common sense. That committee deals with minor problems. Singing crocodiles were a much more serious breech."

"Office of Misinformation!" Ron blurted, and Hermione grinned.

"Bingo!"

"Aw… I'm never going to pass History of Magic." Harry groaned, laying his head back against the couch.

"You don't need it to become an Auror, anyways." Ron said encouragingly, patting Harry on the back.

"Just how are you doing better than me, anyways? I thought we _both_ slept in that class."

Ron grinned. "Maybe I have a tutor."

"A what?" Ginny asked. She leaded forward, poking Ron in the forehead quickly. "Liar. You're talking about Mildred."

"Milded?" Hermione asked, looking surprised. "She likes History of Magic?"

"She's mental," Ron said, but the way he said it made it sound like a compliment. "It's her favorite subject. She wants to be a historian after school, and plans on spending time in the archives in Egypt this summer…"

Hermione frowned. She knew for a fact that that couldn't happen… unless Ron was going with her. She gasped. "Are you leaving this summer!?" she asked.

Ron looked a little sheepish, ducking his head. "It's only for a few months. I figured I could put off my Auror training for a little while…"

"They only accept new applicants once a year." Harry warned, and Ron nodded.

"I know. When we first get back, I might work in George's joke shop. He could really use the help- he offered me a job before."

"Mom is going to kill you for not telling her sooner. We have less than two weeks of school left! When are you leaving?"

"Right away, I presume… We're going to ride on something called an "Air-O-Plane," since it's too far to apparate. Besides, I'm kind of excited- I heard dad talk about those machines _constantly_ when we were growing up. Maybe I can finally tell him how it stays up in the air so long?"

Hermione smiled, but she really had to work at it. She felt a little lump in her chest, a little ball of jealousy that poked and prodded at her heart.

"I think being an Auror would be great," Ginny said, grinning. "Dumbledore's army grew to be so much more than it started as last year- I really think I'm cut out for fighting dark wizards."

Harry frowned at her. This must be new information to him, too. "Really? It'll be kind of dangerous… you know."

She rolled her eyes and moved to sit next to him, throwing her arm around his shoulders. "I can take care of myself." She kissed him on the cheek and threw her legs over his lap, lounging comfortably. "Besides, it'll give me an excuse to drag you away from studying for History of Magic, since we don't need it."

Hermione frowned, watching as Harry and Ginny stood up, Ginny leading Harry towards the exit. "We're going to bring lunch down to the great lake- it's so nice outside today!" she said, before Hermione could admonish them for abandoning their study session.

She sighed. "I suppose this is as good a time for a break as any." She snapped her book shut, feeling that same lump growing. Everyone was happy. The Marriage Law had no apparent negative effects on any of her friend's lives…

She was certain there were those with worse matches than her. Someone had to have married Nott, for example… she realized with a start that she had never even given a thought to who it could be.

Chances were most dark wizards wouldn't risk the Ministry's fury by mistreating their assigned spouses, unless there was something big to be gained by it. Why did Nott hate her so much, anyways? Was this really all about revenge, or was there some other agenda?

She swallowed past the little lump, trying to breathe deeply. The clenching around her heart was feeling a lot more like self-pity, and she didn't need it. She would focus on her career… if she was never able to find love, she would at least have that. She could be happy.

"I, uh…. actually have plans myself," Ron said, slipping his books into his bag. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"Tutoring?" She asked, her voice dripping with more melancholy than she had meant to let on.

Ron didn't notice at all. "Uh, yeah. Sorry! Promise we'll study extra hard later tonight!" And with that, he left the Common Room, leaving Hermione alone with her books. And her thoughts.

What would Draco do if she suggested moving for half a year in order to pursue a career? Laugh in her face, most likely. She didn't _plan_ on going anywhere, but it didn't change the fact that her life was now a cage.

...

The beginning of the two week NEWTs period was upon them, and there was a real dichotomy in how the seventh years, both natural and returning, were dealing with the intense stress.

Half of the student body was abnormally quiet. The other half was in hysterics.

Hermione was of the first variety, but then again she had always tested well. She had a tendency to completely lose it in the weeks prior to a test, but now that she could actually sit down and prove her skills she was noticeable calmer.

The two weeks flew by, leaving no time for Hermione to notice that these were her last days living at Hogwarts… her last nights away from Malfoy Manor.

All too soon, exams were over and the realization hit her: She had one more night left. Tomorrow, everyone would pack their bags and go home.

She returned to Gryffindor Tower with her friends, everyone trying to avoid talking about the actual exam they had just taken and enjoying the fact that it was over. Hermione would have preferred to compare notes a little, but she knew her friends too well to even try.

Predictably, there was a party in the Common Room that night, everyone cheering and filling up mugs with butterbeer. The party was tame compared to the days of Fred and George, but it was still nice to laugh and drink with all the people she had come to know over the past eight years of her life. These people were a family, a home-away-from-home, and there was no doubt she was going to miss them all dearly.

...

Just as she had arrived after the Marriage Law, Hermione left early in the morning the next day. She didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to say her goodbyes. It would only make it so much harder to leave…

She walked to the gates of Hogwarts, her trunk and Crookshank's carrier in tow, and with a last glance at the school's towers silhouetted against the rising sun she disappareted away.

...

Draco paced in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. Should he knock? This was ridiculous- it was the very last day he would be at this school, so why did the damn portrait still deny him entry to the Gryffindor Common Room?

"Oh, you wiley Slytherins. I won't have you coming into this place and… doing whatever it is that Slytherins do!" The woman was blabbing nonsensically, and Draco sighed.

He wondered how long it would take someone to come out so he could ask about Hermione? He didn't want her wandering the ground alone today- it would be the last chance Nott would have of trying to snatch her away. If he were to try anything, it would be today. Malfoy Manor was untouchable at this point, so once he got her there he could stop worrying.

He was sick of worrying about her.

At least during testing she spent most of her time locked up in her tower. There were no classes, and all students moved together down to the test site and back to their dorms. She had been safer in the past two weeks, and so had Draco.

But now… students were trickling out one by one. The end of the year speech had been at dinner last night, and now students could leave at any time in the day, if they were not taking the train. Most seventh years were not opting for the Hogwarts express, now that they could apparate from outside the school gates. Nott and any other Death Eaters he had recruited would be keeping their eyes peeled.

The portrait swung open, and Draco looked up hopefully.

Out came the Weasley girl, shocked still by the sight of him.

"Malfoy?" She said, squinting at him as if she couldn't believe he was actually there. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hermione," he said, trying to look around her into the hole behind the portrait. "I wanted to walk her to the gate."

Weasley stared for a minute, and slowly her head tilted to the side, comically far, studying him. "I see," she said very slowly, and something in the way she said those two words ruffled him. She began to smile a creeping half smile, her eyes lighting up.

Draco, after a moment of thinking about her reaction, affected his best sneer. "I'd just rather her not end up dead before she makes it to the Mansion."

"Mmmmhmmm," Weasley said, and Draco decided he was really hating the girl version of that damn family. He'd rather have her brother trying pathetically to insult him than have this thin framed girl drawing false conclusions.

"Oh, forget it," Draco said, and made for the stairs.

"You run away a lot, from what I've heard!" Ginny said, and he stopped, glaring over his shoulder. "She left earlier- maybe an hour ago? I'm sure she's already made it."

He ran away a lot? What did that even mean? He shook his head, walking quickly down the stairs. He had to get home quickly and make sure she was there- then he could stop worrying, and never have to give another thought to the angry (but safe) ghost in his halls.

...

He didn't bother apparating to the front door- he aimed for the library just beyond her rooms. If she didn't want anyone to apparate to her wing of the house, they couldn't, and he didn't want to risk getting splinched.

Though she probably didn't even know about that little detail yet, actually.

He stormed through the library doors, walking quickly down her corridor. He burst through into the sun-room… She wasn't there.

Why did his heart speed up like he was panicking? There was no reason to panic. She was probably in another room.

He went to the next logical place: her bedroom.

Without bothering to knock he threw the door open, and there she was. Finally, he had found her…

He had found a lot of her, actually.

She stared, open-mouthed, as she held her muggle shirt in her hand, her Gryffindor robes neatly folded on her bed. The only thing covering her top was a thin scrap of muggle under-clothes, holding up her large perfect breasts.

His mind skipped. Yes, he could certainly admit that they were, in fact, perfect breasts. His potion-clouded brain on their wedding night hadn't supplied him with false perception on that fact at all.

He expected her to scream, or throw things at him. Instead she put her hands on her hips, holding her head high and looking like a confident, though irritable, tiger. "Do I have to lock my doors in my own wing, Draco, or can you knock?"

He blinked, finally tearing his gaze from the soft, ample, surging peaks kept hidden by such a tiny bit of fabric… "Uh… right. Knocking is something… I should do."

She pointed firmly to the door, and he took the hint quite well. He backed out of her room, closing the door behind him.

...

What in the hell was he thinking!? Hermione didn't think she had to take that in her own home… er, corridor. She didn't act ashamed- _he_ had burst in on _her_, afterall. It wasn't like she had been naked, either, though the way his eyes drank her in she might as well have been. Wizards were a little more prudish, afterall, and she didn't think things like bras or bikinis existed at all in their world.

Okay, she could admit that she was feeling a bit bolstered up by his reaction. Not so long ago he was completely disgusted by her, but he obviously saw something he liked just then- and seeing him stunned silent was a little like a victory. Not that he'd ever have the chance to see her unclothed again, if she had her way.

She slipped on her T-shirt and finished buttoning her jeans. She took her time- he could wait. _If_ he was waiting. Maybe he had gone sulking back off to the other side of the house where he belonged. She put her school robes away carefully in the giant wardrobe in the corner of her room… and gasped. There was literally a lifetime of robes packed into the giant oak closet, the inside enlarged to fit three whole racks full. They all appeared to be in her size, and of the latest fashions she had seen in Ginny's copy of "witch weekly."

Some looked to be more expensive than others, and more formal, too. She wondered, with a sinking feeling, just where she was expected to wear such robes. The simple semi-formal one's she could appreciate- she would need them for work. But the voluminous silk pieces seemed to be overkill for any practical purpose.

She remembered that Draco was right outside her door, and hurried to ask him about her mysterious new clothing.

"Draco?" she called, sticking her head out of her door. The hall was empty. With a sigh, she conceded to herself that it was for the best. She shouldn't get used to having him around to answer questions. The two had made it expressly clear that they didn't want to see each other. Especially after their wedding night…

Hermione scrunched her eyes, holding a hand to her head. No, she didn't want to think about it. She had worked very hard to put the whole thing out of her mind… until now. His eyes on her moments before had seemed dangerously close to showing the same appreciation for her as when he had been drugged. She didn't need him thinking of her _that_ way. She didn't need a reason to lock her door.

She walked into her sun-room, hoping for some morning coffee to miraculously appear, and started when she noticed Draco sitting on her couch. _The_ couch. _Her_ couch? She wasn't sure what to think of the actual furnishings in her area. She was Draco's wife, but the house was still owned by his parents. Nothing was _technically_ hers… it was more like a loan, really, until such time as Narcissa wanted to take it back. Not a comforting thought, since she was certain she had pissed off her mother-in-law good last time they had spoken.

"Draco, where did all those clothes come from?" she asked. Obviously he hadn't noticed her enter the room, because her words made him jump, swiveling on the paisley printed couch to face her. He had been petting Crookshanks, the great orange cat cuddling next to him on the couch like the big traitor he was. The cat was probably just mad at her-she hadn't been paying much attention to him lately.

Crookshanks seemed to be a lot smarter than a cat should be at times, and now the cat turned to look at her with smug, contented, half-closed eyes.

"Clothes?"

"Yes, the dress-robes filling my wardrobe."

"I assume they're from my mother. She probably doesn't want you running around in muggle clothes all the time."

Hermione knew she probably shouldn't say it, but she felt the words tumble out of her mouth anyways. "What do you think… about muggle clothes? You didn't seem to mind them a few minutes ago." Baiting him like that was wrong, but she wanted to make some things perfectly clear, and to do that she had to get the whole thing out in the open.

"I, uh… if you don't like the robes, you can order whatever you want. I'll see to it we get you a key to the family vault by tomorrow, but if you wanted to shop today I could give you some gold."

He was being way too nice. The things he said sounded typical: throw money at her and she'll shut up. However, he was speaking far too politely to sound completely normal. Maybe he was in shock?

"Draco, let's get something perfectly straight. I will be getting a job and paying for my own things. I have enough money from my parents to make it through whatever apprenticeship I decide on, and then I'll hopefully be hired."

Draco looked like he wanted to argue, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Also, I don't want you over here, in my wing of the house. I don't want… anything from you, Draco. I'd like for us to get along, but don't misunderstand me: there will not be a repeat of our wedding night."

Draco scoffed, and she could see that her remarks had made him put up his usual walls. Good. It was better that way. "What makes you think I would _want_ to? I just stopped by to see if you made it back. I'll leave."

"If I made it back? Why wouldn't I…?" She remembered the night he had waited outside the infirmary for her, and realized that he had once again been worried for her. "You wanted to check up on me," she said softly.

"Yeah, sorry. I can see I misjudged my welcome," he snapped, standing.

"Draco… I'm sorry if I came across harsh. I just… I don't want you to think I'd sleep with someone who doesn't love me," she said the last as fast as she could, suddenly feeling embarrassed. She was making an ass of herself. A presumptuous ass.

Draco stared at her. "I could have guessed that about you. You didn't have to tell me."

She was surprised by his calm answer. Maybe they could get through this conversation on friendly terms, afterall? "I'm sorry. I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but I just wanted to make things clear. I think we haven't defined things very clearly in this… relationship... but I was pretty sure we were on the same page."

Draco nodded. "We are. I'll stay out of your way, and you stay out of mine. Now that you're here, we don't have to worry about Nott." He nodded at her again. "There's no reason for me to check in on you. Goodbye, then."

Hermione watched him walk out silently.

Was he the only one with a problem? Because- though she tried to deny it- when his eyes had been grazing over her body, some small, possible demented part of her had liked it.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Please review and let me know how you feel about my interpretation of Narcissa and Ginny in the chapter. ^.^  
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**Chapter 14: The Dinner Party**

The next day, around noon, Hermione saw her first house elf. She was sitting in the library, reading a book she had found on Metal Charming that would probably be quite useful if she got that particular apprenticeship, when she heard the loud "crack!" of apparition.

The house elf was ancient, like Kreatcher, but a little less crotchety at first glance. It bowed its bony gray head and said in a scratchy voice, "There is being a guest at the gates, Mistress."

"Oh… a guest for me? Thank you. What's your name?"

The old elf gave her a moment's pause, looking unsure. "Other Mistress say not to speaks with you as much as possible, but I suppose if you asks… I is being Yugo, Mistress. I is good, loyal Malfoy elf for many generations. I is asked to take care of new Mistress."

"So you're the one who's been bringing me food?" she asked, smiling. "Thank you, Yugo. You don't have to hide yourself anymore- that is an order from me. Narcissa told you to take care of me, and I insist that must include being visible to me." She had more experience, now, dealing with elves than she had years ago. She hated to phrase it as an order, but otherwise she knew he'd probably never talk to her again.

Yugo looked conflicted, considering her words.

"If my reputation precedes me, then let me promise I won't try to present you with clothes unless you want me to, okay?"

The old elf nodded.

Hermione stood up. She still didn't know how to walk to the front gates of the Mansion, so she chose instead to apparate there. Immediately, she saw a head of sleek red hair and smiled wide.

"Ginny!" she exclaimed, surprised. "What are you doing here?" Her smile dropped as it occurred to her that the reason could be something less than pleasant. Why else would Ginny come to this horrible place? "What's wrong?"

"What? Does there need to be an emergency for me to visit you?" Ginny asked with a grin. "I just thought you might like some company. I hate to think of you here on your first day all alone… Unless you're not all alone?"

Ginny had a strange grin on her face at that, and she wiggle her eyebrows in a way that Hermione just didn't understand. "I don't follow," Hermione admitted, and Ginny sighed.

"Okay, nevermind. Let's go inside. I'm in the mood for some girl talk, and look," she held up a brown paper bag with the logo for the joke shop. "I brought you a present." She held up another bag without a logo. "And I brought some butterbeers and Witch Weekly magazines, because even though you protest, I know in your heart of hearts you love looking at the sexy wizard models pictured inside."

Hermione laughed, offering to carry one of the bags with her hand out as she said, "Okay, you've won me over, Ginny Potter. Come on in."

She held out her hand, and when Ginny took it she side-alonged the girl to her sun room. Ginny stared around, her mouth hanging open. "This is plush!" Ginny exclaimed. "Is that a _quidditch pitch_ outside your window!?"

"Yes, yes it is."

Ginny turned back to her with amazed eyes. "I have never heard anyone sound so disappointed about living in a place so extravagant. Those teacups are wedgewood, and I'm betting that piano's pretty nice, too, though I'm no expert."

Hermione noticed that tea had been set out for her and her guest, and she smiled at the thoughtfulness of the old elf. She wished she could pay him...

Hermione sat down on the couch, pouring some for herself and grabbing a tiny sandwich, Ginny following her lead.

"So," Ginny said, swallowing her food quickly so she could talk. "Draco seemed pretty eager to find you yesterday…"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. When did Draco bump into Ginny? Did that have something to do with the mischievous look in her light brown eyes?

"Yes. He found me, alright." Hermione went into details, trying hard to convey exactly why it was inappropriate for him to just waltz into her section of the house like that. This was her private space… and the way he had ogled her had sent alarms buzzing in her head, causing her to chastise him. She deliberately didn't mention the other, more complicated feelings his reaction had caused in her.

"You told him what!? Oh, Hermione…"

Hermione wasn't exactly surprised by her friend's reaction- she knew she had probably come off as looking down at him, calling him out on something she might have imagined and banishing him from her rooms just for worrying about her. She groaned, thinking about it…

"Hermione, do you really want to close that bridge forever? It seemed like you two had made some progress over the past few months…"

"Progress?" Okay, now she was lost. Ginny was obviously on a different wavelength than her.

"Well, yes. I mean… you two are stuck together, possibly for the rest of your lives. Don't you want to at least be friends with him? Possibly more?"

"Possibly… Ginny, what are you getting at!?"

Ginny sighed. "I don't mean to sound like I'm trying to push you into anything you don't want… but years down the line, are you really going to be okay completely alone? I mean, I know the two of you don't love each other, per say…"

"_Per say_!?"

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose, shutting her eyes and raising up a hand in defense. "Look, I'm only saying this because I'd hate to have you alienate yourself, hiding away in this little… okay, not little. _Lavish_ room, only to have you and Draco go back to square one."

"Square one? We're still at square one, Ginny! There are no other squares! You are reading too much into something that isn't there- what, exactly, do you see that no one else seems to?"

Ginny frowned. "He cares, Hermione. That might not seem like much, to people like you and me. But for him to go from thinking of you as a bitter enemy to someone he wants to protect… it's a long road he's gone down, without even realizing it. And for you to not hex him the minute he opened that door on you yesterday is also a good sign, in my opinion. You're both, at the very least, comrades now. As long as you're married, your fortunes are tied. What if you want to travel? If you're not on good terms with him, will he comply? Or what if, one day, you find yourself lonely…"

"Ginny!" Was she implying what Hermione thought she was implying? It seemed kinda risqué of Ginny to be moving the conversation down these lines, and she was beginning to put her guards up.

Ginny sighed, tapping her teacup with her nails as she cupped it with both hands. "Was it that bad? Your wedding night?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, her guards now well-deployed. She frowned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I heard about what Nott said to you. And the way you reacted… did Draco hurt you? You didn't lash out for no reason…"

"No! I mean, it was actually the opposite… Draco was a perfect gentleman. He said… that he didn't want me to cry. That he didn't need _another_ nightmare, which can only mean his memories of the war still affect him." Hermione sighed. "That doesn't mean I wasn't... well, scared. I was scared." She hated admitting it out loud. It sounded so pathetic to her ears. "That's why his words hurt... they _could_ have been the truth."

Ginny nodded. "Draco was in range of a lot of the nastier side of things than any of us, though we really don't know the details. If you ask me, it shows that he's a good person, the fact that he wasn't desensitized to all the violence after being surrounded by it so long."

Hermione sat, staring at her tea. It was true- any other person might have come out of the war with even more hatred, but for Draco it seemed to have just drained him. He was too tired to hate anymore, he had said.

Then again, any other person would have tried to _change_ things that were horrible, not just bear witness to them.

"So, I'll ask again… Was it that bad?"

Hermione shook her head, accepting defeat. "We took a love potion. A weak one. And it wasn't bad- it was incredible."

Ginny gasped in mock surprise, her grin not completely hidden by the hand held up to her mouth. "Draco Malfoy is good in bed, you say?"

"On a love potion."

"Oh, a love potion doesn't make you any better of a lover."

"How would _you_ know?"

Ginny held up her copy of Witch Weekly, waving it around for emphasis. Hermione stifled a laugh.

"Oh, Ginny. You can't believe everything you read… but maybe you're right. So what? I'm not going to sleep with someone just because they have a… a knack for it."

Ginny laughed, loud and clear. "A… knack. I don't think such eloquent words have ever been spoken." She took a deep breath, trying to look serious again. "I'm just saying- your rings are fidelity rings. Are you really going to be celibate for the rest of your life?"

"The Marriage Law might end-"

"If it doesn't? Are you going to spend your nights lonely from now on?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "If I have to."

Ginny shook her head, looking bemused. "I'm just saying… just try to stay on good terms with him at the very least. At the very most, jump his bones."

Hermione smacked her friend's shoulder roughly, but had to laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. Ginny Weasley was trying to hook her up with Draco Malfoy. It was beyond bizarre!

If her and Draco were the last two people on Earth, would she sleep with him?

Definitely, probably, not.

...

The two spent their time going through the magazines, drinking butterbeer, and talking about anything but Draco. Hermione had declared the subject taboo for the rest of the evening, and with great disappointment Ginny had agreed.

Why was Ginny being so nosy, anyways? Hermione was sure Ginny was the only person on Earth who would ever suggest her and Draco getting closer because they _wanted_ to. It was outrageous. She didn't particularly enjoy his company, she was certain he still thought he was better than her, and just because he worried about her didn't mean he worried for _her_ sake- he had his own agenda, afterall.

Ginny just didn't know enough about the situation to make informed advice, so Hermione decided to leave it at that.

"Quiberon Quafflepuncher's Clement Lemaire is number four on the 'Hottest Bachelor' list this month," Ginny said with a grin, showing Hermione his picture and grinning. "I don't know about you, but I think his platinum blond hair is damn sexy."

"Ginny…" Hermione said, warningly.

"A seeker's build really suits him, too. He's got such a refined look to him…"

Hermione threw her own magazine at the girl, causing a burst of giggles to erupt from her victim. "Oh, come on! I'm not even allowed to make obvious allusions to… the boy-Hermione-declared-shall-not-be-named?"

"You know, your sense of humor is not appreciated by everyone."

"It's like a fine wine- you have to have good taste to appreciate my brilliance," Ginny said with a wink.

Just then, they heard a tapping from one of the huge windows in the room, and Hermione jumped up to grant the owl entrance. It was a huge, tawny bird with flecks of white on its brow. It wore a belt around its neck with the Malfoy family crest, which was enough to raise Hermione's eyebrows.

"You're so popular today!" Ginny said, bouncing over. "Visitors, mail…"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she took in the letter, and handed it wordlessly to Ginny. Ginny scanned its contents as Hermione sat back down on the couch.

"This… this is a joke, right?" Ginny asked, pulling a particularly disgusted face. "_To Mrs. Hermione Malfoy and Guest?_ The woman lives in the same house as you!"

"I'm not too surprised."

"But… she's inviting us to dinner? In an hour? By owl? With a formal cardstock invitation with gold filigree!?"

"I think she's trying to make a point of giving me my space."

"Well, you've made it pretty clear you've declared your own country over here." Ginny looked up, a smile playing over her features. "So, we're going, right? Oh, Merlin, it says semi-formal attire!" She burst out laughing.

Hermione failed to see what was so funny.

...

Draco tapped his fingers against the long oak dining table. His mother was being obstinate. "She's not coming," he muttered again for the hundredth time, but Narcissa was an expert at selective hearing. And right now, she was choosing not to hear Draco.

"I want you to be a proper young wizard and ask her if there's anything else she needs. She might not feel comfortable using the family funds, but they are certainly open to her…"

"Mother…" Again, his plea was met with deaf ears.

"We can't have her thinking of us as the enemy here, Draco. There are social functions I want you both to attend, and a certain amount of decorum must be met. That business with the Marriage Law's child clause made her so upset before…"

"It wasn't the fact that the clause existed," Draco said, pointing out the obvious. "It was the fact that we lied to her."

Narcissa waved a hand, dismissing his words as if they were fly's buzzing around her head. "She must be over such a small thing by now. We need to make sure to win her over- it will make many things in the future easier."

Draco slid down in his chair, gesturing for the house elf he knew was somewhere nearby to fill up his wine glass. It began to fill on its own, and he gestured for the elf to keep going until his glass was indecently full. This was going to be an extremely long dinner, though if Hermione ended up snapping by the end of it, it might not qualify as "boring."

If she showed. Which he sincerely doubted.

"I do wish she had better taste in friends," Narcissa said with a frown from her perch by the dining hall's impressive statuesque windows."I know she's close to Potter, and since he's something of a fad in the media I suppose that's not awful, but I didn't know there would be a Weasley running about." She sighed. "I just hope the girl doesn't pilfer any of the fine china."

Draco tried not to spit up his wine at the sudden, unwelcome laugh that burst from his mouth. His mother looked at him like he was crazy, and he tried his best to get himself under control. "Mother, when you and father agreed to have me marry myself off to Granger, you really didn't know that much about her, did you?"

His mother offered him a blank stare, and he continued. "I can guarantee Weasleys will be descending on us en masse before long."

In truth, the Weasley girl was a _Potter_ now. However, this fact hardly seemed to matter, and she would always be a Weasley in Draco's eyes. What else could something so red and freckled be?

"Well, I suppose that's why Hermione was given her own space, hmm?" Narcissa said with a little frown.

Uh, huh. Yeah. _That_ was why. Draco bit his tongue to keep the scathing remark he was formulating in his head at bay. Instead of blurting his thoughts aloud, he took another long sip of wine.

"We haven't even sat down to dinner yet, Draco!" his mother chided, eyeing the wine. "How many times have you had that filled up?"

"Just once, for your information. But I have big plans, mother." To emphasize his point he had the elf top him off, and his mother gave him a warning look that would have frightened him as a child. It frightened him now, but he was pretty good at hiding that fact. Before she could make another remark, in walked Hermione and Weasley, both in dress robes and wand-styled hair.

He blinked, almost wondering if he was imaging what he was seeing. He had fully expected Hermione to ignore his mother's obvious distaste in muggle clothing and wear her most foul outfit she could find. However, she had opted instead to wear one of her new gowns, a pale blue silken thing with robe sleeves that fell low. The gown had a high neckline, but hugged her curves in a way that disturbingly reminded him of her wedding dress.

She had dressed her friend up in one of the new gowns, too, though Draco guessed they had used a few tailoring spells to make it fit her on the top. There was no doubt that, from an objective viewpoint, the Weasley girl was the more beautiful of the two… but Hermione was the one with the curves. Draco had decided very recently that he liked her curves. Maybe it was just a matter of taste?

"Sorry we're late- I haven't figure out this maze yet, and I thought apparating might seem a little rude," Hermione said, as polite as could be. Really, Draco didn't detect a hint of sarcasm. Maybe she was becoming a little bit better at concealing her dislike, these days? That could be the reason why she didn't just hex him out of her room the other day. He honestly expected at least a bat-boogey or something, but she had seemed calm as could be.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Narcissa said, all smiles, lit-up eyes, and lilting voice. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was feeling a little bitter towards his mother today, but he couldn't quite place his annoyance to one thing.

"Thank you for inviting me, too," Weasley said. She flashed Hermione a conspiratorial smile, and Draco had the distinct feeling that Hermione wouldn't have bothered coming if not for her auburn-haired friend. "I hope you don't mind- Hermione let me borrow one of her dress-robes, since I didn't think to bring any of my own."

Narcissa looked pleased at the girl's appearances, and smiled, gesturing towards two seats opposite Draco. Narcissa sat at the head of the table, since she was now head of the household until his father's return. "Of course! Those are Hermione's things, to do with as she pleases. The red does seem to suit you."

No one made a comment at that, though Ginny sent Hermione an amused smile. The girls sat down, and almost immediately their first course of soups appeared.

And the predictable silence descended.

Draco found this particular brand of torment much better than if his mother started speaking. He didn't think he could handle himself if Hermione started to think his mother's words were his, too. He still didn't know much about Hermione, but he knew her type: She would not appreciate his mother's bribery.

Perhaps the awkward silence could just continue?

"So, Hermione, Draco tells me you're going to be looking for work soon?"

He had not. He had mentioned it in passing after trying to tell his mother Hermione wasn't interested in using their vault, and that she should stop badgering him about it.

Hermione looked to Draco, eyebrows raised. "Of course. After I complete an apprenticeship, of course. It all depends on my NEWTs scores."

Ginny snorted, causing the attention of everyone at the table to be drawn to her. "Oh, come on. Everyone knows she'll get perfect "O's" in all ten subjects she took. Is there even a doubt?"

"Ginny…" Hermione said in a low voice, "Not that I don't appreciate the vote of confidence, but I didn't get straight "O's" on my OWLs. And I'm certain I completely fudged that last question on the Charms written exam…"

"The one about the Horton-Keitch Braking charm?" Draco asked, suddenly interested. He had thought that was the easiest topic to write about- how had the perpetually brainy Hermione botched it?

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Leave it to Hermione to take the only interesting question and say it was difficult."

"Well, sorry. I'm not very well versed in Quidditch. I still think it was an unfair question, since we only covered regular braking charms in class. I'm aware that this one is a little different, but I didn't know how."

"You've read more books than me and the boys combined, but you haven't read any books on Quidditch? I thought everyone knew that question- it was a freeby!"

"I get the impression Flitwick will give more points for knowing the fundamentals of how a breaking charm works, than the small details that make this one fit for Quidditch brooms." Draco said, and Hermione smiled at him, looking a bit surprised.

"Thank you Draco. I hope you're right, but I still don't expect an "O" in Charms," she answered, looking down at her soup.

"Oh, Hermione, you're way too modest!" Ginny said, throwing an arm around her friend's shoulders- quite a feat given that the high-backed chairs of the dining table had a little distance between them. "You'll do better than any of the rest of us!"

Draco felt a prickle of annoyance. He had always hated that she scored higher than him at most subjects, though that was a feeling that had felt distant and unimportant lately. His mother's small frown, however, indicated that it was still a sore subject for her. For years his family had insisted that the Professors at Hogwarts must be giving her preferential treatment because she was muggle-born. It was the only reason they had for her high scores, given her undesirable blood status.

Draco had always stayed quiet when they said that, keeping his opinion to himself. If he could have believed that was true, he wouldn't have felt so embarrassed at being so far below her on the class score lists year after year. But he knew, from the very first year, that Hermione really was just a smarter, harder working student. She would ask questions in class to the point where it would make her the butt of jokes from every House. She would turn in her homework early. She would- and Draco had actually _heard_ her do this after class one day- ask for _additional_ homework to help her better understand subjects. She was nuts, but she was brilliant.

And it irked him.

"Right, well, let's get back on subject, shall we?" Narcissa said, and Draco flashed his mother a look she didn't notice. She sounded annoyed, her careful mask slipping a little. "Hermione, you know you're free to do whatever you'd like- the Marriage Law only confines you to the house from midnight to six am."

"I'm aware," Hermione answered. Again, she hid any mockery she might have wanted to place in those two words, sounding completely amiable. However, Draco noticed the tell-tale frostiness in her eyes as she looked at Narcissa.

"However, an apprenticeship usually doesn't pay."

"I'm also aware of that. I have some money from my parents as a graduation gift. I have to visit them tomorrow, as a matter of fact."

Narcissa seemed to lose her train of thought at that, and no doubt she was just as disgusted by the thought of Hermione's muggle parents as Draco was. It was easier to pretend Hermione was a somewhat normal witch if she kept such details hidden, but no. She wore muggle clothes and talked about her muggle parents… where was her decency?

His mother's smile faltered a little more, and Hermione obviously noticed her reaction. The fiery look in Hermione's eyes set off alarm bells in Draco's head, and he rushed to change the subject.

"What kind of apprenticeship will you be applying for?" Draco asked, feigning interest. "Something nearby?"

Everyone ignored him, his mother stepping on the last words of his sentence with her own. "I think it would be easier on you if you just relied on our gold for now. After all, you should save your money. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll change your mind and decide to let my son out of this match, and you'll have to get by somehow."

And there it was. Draco groaned, raising a hand to his forehead. He saw Ginny, from across the table, mouth "uh, oh" to him. He wondered if Hermione had filled Weasley in on the details of their argument, or if she was just picking up on the general mood.

"Narcissa, I think you may have been obliviate-ed," Hermione said, her words a digging insult but her tone still cordial. She took a swig- not a dainty sip, but a full _swig_- from her wineglass.

"Whatever do you mean, dear?" Narcissa asked, her smile all teeth. She knew damn well what Hermione meant.

Draco sensed a storm coming. Weasley was staring to him, pointing behind a hand towards his mother, but he didn't understand the gesture. What did she want from _him_?

"Oh, I was under the impression this conversation was dead and buried. Maybe some Legillimens planted some false memories in me- sorry." Hermione set down her now-empty wine glass with a 'thud.'"How about if I just go ahead and reiterate? I'm-"

"You're what? You're going to deny me any chance at all at a grandchild!? Draco is the last in the Malfoy line- even if this family falls from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I won't let it end with this generation! I promised Lucius-"

"Mother!" Draco yelled, finally understanding the increasingly frantic gestures of Ginny Weasley. He was the only one who could stop this before it got out of hand… and he felt reasonably sure he would have to pick a side. Picking sides in women's arguments was never a good idea. Again, something his father had once said… he would have to disregard that advice this one time. "Don't you think its inappropriate _dinner conversation_ to suggest your son should _put a baby in someone!_? I can't believe you're carrying on like this- where's your pride?"

Narcissa stared at her son, open-mouthed but thankfully quiet.

Weasley grinned, giving him a thumbs up while Hermione looked exactly as shocked as his mother at his outburst, her eyes wide in his direction.

There was a blissful moment of silence, and Draco was just thinking this would be the perfect time to make his escape… when he remembered what Weasley had said. He ran away a lot.

He had never considered himself a coward. He was a self-preservationist, and a damn good one for coming out on the wrong side of a very bloody war alive.

As he was thinking, the look on Hermione's face changed, bit by bit, melting into an almost sad expression of gratitude. She nodded at him, swallowing and blinking quickly. Was she about to cry? Really!?

"Oh! Beef Wellington!" Weasley suddenly exclaimed, cutting the silence with a clap of her hands as if overjoyed at the promise of delicious food. Sure enough, the dinner platters were just popping into existence, the Beef Wellington and various side dishes being sent to the table by the hidden house elves.

The food served itself onto their plates, and everyone began to eat as if nothing at all had gone amiss with this farce of a dinner party. Weasley picked up the conversation again silkily, returning to the topic of employment.

"Well, are you going to answer Draco's question?" she asked, elbowing Hermione. Apparently _one_ person was listening to Draco."About your apprenticeship?"

"What? Oh, right." Hermione looked over at him and smiled her first genuine smile of the evening. "I'm applying for two things, actually. I like the idea of trying my hand at Metal Charming, though if my Charms NEWT is anything less than an "O," there's little chance of that… then there's an apprenticeship with the Ministry I'm going to apply for."

"Oh, Draco's interested in working with the ministry too," Narcissa piped up. She, like everyone else at the table, was apparently struck with amnesia of the argument moments before.

"Oh," Hermione said, turning from Narcissa to look at Draco. "Really?"

He nodded. "I think it would be good to start building contacts within the Ministry now. I'm not certain I will choose to work there afterwards, but it would be good to build experience on the inner workings of the Ministry."

Hermione nodded, slowly, thinking. "So, what jobs would you think about accepting, if not in the Ministry?"

Draco blinked, staring across the table. He really hadn't gotten that far thinking about his future. It wasn't like he _seriously_ needed to work or anything- he just had to ensure the Malfoy family would still be influential within the new Ministry. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"Would you like to travel?" Weasley asked, that knowing grin back on her face.

Hermione frowned at her friend, and Draco was pretty sure he could imagine the earlier conversation the two probably had had on the subject. Afterall, Hermione _couldn't_ go anywhere… she had to stay by his side, wherever he went. Now that he thought about it, it made him feel a little like her captor, and he frowned as he tried to imagine how she felt about that.

His mother had said it was important they win Hermione over. She had done a piss-poor job of it, so now it was up to Draco. Besides, wasn't he supposed to try and make her happy, as per Potter's little speech? Maybe that's why he was so inclined to take her side lately- a life debt was a serious thing.

He was fairly certain he could blame the next words that came out of his mouth on the life debt, in any case.

"No… but if you ever wanted to go somewhere, Hermione, I would take you."


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone, both new and regular reviewers! Since it's the weekend, I'm going to continue my double-upload offer today. If I get at least 10 reviews I'll do a double upload tomorrow morning (which will include a couple of my favorite scenes)!  
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_..._

_ I definitely agree with a lot of you reviewers: Ginny is very optimistic about Draco in my fic. I was worried it was too much, but I left her that way for a few reasons. So, here's my defense: First, I kind of think she knows as much about Draco as Hermione knows about, say, Zabini. In other words, I think she knows Harry doesn't like the guy, and that he was a death eater (a lousy death eater, actually), but other than that he's just a bully at her school. She hasn't had enough personal experience to make judgements, since they were not in the same year. Her run-in with him on the last day at Hogwarts was one of her few impressions face-to-face with him, and I like to think that Ginny would be able to read between the lines fairly quickly. She's a people-person. I always saw her as quick-witted, hex-throwing, popular Gryffindor princess (unlike the mousy girl from the movies). _I believe she's spent a lot of time with George lately and over-developed her sense of humor. Additionally, she's trying to cheer up Hermione. These are my excuses. ^.^  
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_...also, I usually like to have a fun comedic female character in my fics to ease the tension, and I think Ginny fits the bill. She's useful as a story-driving device. _

_..._

**Chapter 15: The Interview**

The rest of dinner went by very quickly. Hermione was struck dumb by Draco's words… why was he trying to appease her, now? She had expected he would still be pissed about being sent away the day before, so she didn't understand his actions at dinner.

He was… nice. More than nice. He was another person entirely.

It didn't escape Ginny's notice, either.

"I don't know… when he said he would take you anywhere, I thought it was awfully sweet."

Hermione groaned.

"And he stood up to his mother for you! I get the feeling that for Draco, that's a big deal."

"Ginny, why are you doing this?" Hermione asked, exasperated. She really didn't understand where this whole perspective was coming from. Why was Ginny _pushing_ this?

Ginny smirked, wiggling her fingers in the air. "I've been practicing my divination. OOOOooooo," she said, in as good a Trelawney impression as any Hermione had seen. "Oh, my child, I see great misfortune in your future…"

Hermione snorted. "Future? How about present?"

"...you will have a friend that only wants to help you be happy, but you will continue to ignore her good advice. Oh! DOOM! You might start to think that your _husband_ isn't quite the prat he once was, and that maybe your friend is a good judge of character… OOOOOooooo."

"You dated Michael Corner. You are _not_ giving me relationship advice."

Ginny laughed, slapping her arm playfully. "Oh, Michael wasn't _so_ bad. A sore loser when it came to Quidditch, but he was a great kisser…"

"Don't let Harry hear you say that."

"Well, of _course_ not. Harry is definitely the jealous type. But he's the _better_ kisser, anyways. That's why I married him, don't you know- it all comes down to snogging." She held up her ring as if it were proof, giggling. Ginny's ring was a shining gold color, simple but beautiful, with no binding spells placed on it. Fidelity was already part of the deal, because Ginny loved Harry. They could both go wherever they wanted, but they would rather be with each other. Ginny and Harry had everything Hermione wanted for herself, and that hard jealous feeling started turning her stomach again.

When they finally made it back to the sun-room, after walking down the wrong hallways several times, it was nearly dark. Ginny brightened, bounding across the room to her paper bag. "I almost forgot! I brought you a present!" She handed over the _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ bag with a grin. "George gave me a discount, because I'm so damn lovable. Or maybe because I threatened him with a Bot-Boogey hex. Either-or."

Hermione opened the bag, pulling out a bright pink box with a picture of a couple on horseback, the man raising his sword against a castle backdrop. "Patented Daydream Charms," Hermione read aloud, grinning.

"Have you used them before? Guaranteed fantastic. These are some new one's made only last month by George. He's been making a bundle on these, what with the Marriage Law ruining everyone's love-lives."

Hermione laughed, turning the box over. This was a 'deluxe set,' with over twelve 'adventures.' "I've tried one before- I told them that this was a brilliant bit of magic. Really, it's quite remarkable."

"I found George's secret," Ginny whispered, leaning close as if someone might hear. "He ended up marrying Angelina Johnson- I don't know if I mentioned that yet? Anyways…"

"Wait, Angelina Johnson? Is she muggle-born?"

"Well…" Ginny cocked her head to the side, thinking. "You see, I was never clear on that part. Angelina went so far as to have her mom write a formal confession to having an affair with 80's muggle music sensation, Prince. She got her blood status changed just in time for George to apply for her, so… well, I don't know. I might be a _wee bit suspicious_."

Hermione's jaw fell open. What a brilliant plan! Despite the fact that it was so outrageous it was clearly a joke (probably by George), who could argue against it? It wouldn't have helped _her_ situation at all, but she still couldn't believe she hadn't thought of that as a possibility. She wondered if there had ever been any other reason for someone to lie that they _were _muggle-born; the ministry would never have seen it coming, and there was really no clause in the Law in place to debate it. Hermione wasn't even 100% sure there _was_ a way to identify parentage through magical means.

"Anyways, as I was saying… these things have actually been produced by George, using Angelina's imagination to create the scenarios. I never used them before, because I _really_ didn't want to see what my brother considered a good "girly romance daydream." But now that I know they come from the mind of a girl, I suppose I understand their popularity better." She grinned. "I just wanted you to have something to do if you're ever bored of your expensive teacups, and private potion's lab, and giant library…"

"Thanks," Hermione said with a smile. "The, uh… "The Raven Prince" looks promising, though "Vampire Magic" seems like a real winner, too."

Ginny shook her head. "Don't laugh- that one's been selling out as fast as they can make them, from what George told me."

Hermione apparated Ginny to the front gates again once they changed back into their regular clothing. Before saying their goodbye's, Ginny jumped.

"Oh! I almost forgot- We're throwing a going-away party for Ron tomorrow night- can you make it?"

She frowned. She was going to be double-booked, but how could she say no? "I can swing by after visiting my parents- around seven?"

"Can't wait!" Ginny said, disapparating with a gentle "pop."

...

Her parents, of course, knew nothing of her arranged marriage. There were many things about the Wizarding World that seemed dangerous, barbaric, and nonsensical to the average muggle, and Hermione didn't want to give her parents a reason to worry about her.

She didn't tell her parents when the Basilisk petrified her for half of her second year.

She didn't tell her parents when her and her friends almost died fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry of Magic.

She didn't tell her parents half of what happened last year. They knew about Voldemort, and she had explained why she was on the run and had sent them packing… it was only right to explain to someone when you alter their minds, anyways. She didn't want to seem like a manipulator.

But she hadn't told them about the Battle of Hogwarts, or about many of her friends that died in battle.

And now, she would absolutely _not_ be telling her parents about the archaic Law that had bound her for life with a boy she would never have chosen on her own. They would lose their minds.

Instead, she had a nice, calming visit with her parents. She lied about renting a flat in Diagon Alley so that she would be closer to the apprenticeship she hoped to get, and they congratulated her on her first steps into adulthood. Her parents were always so proud of her and her accomplishments, even if they didn't really understand what a NEWT was or why she was afraid about her Charms essay.

When she arrived at the Burrow, she was immediately enveloped by a squealing Ginny Potter.

"You made it! Seriously, you have to save me! Since the boys found out I visited you at the Manor, they have not stopped the interrogation!"

The information did not fill Hermione with a sense of ease. She stepped into the house, and was greeted by the usual crowd: Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Bill, Fleur, Percy, and George. There were also a couple of new additions: Mildred and Angelina. Charlie, she assumed, was off in Egypt again, and whoever had been married off to Percy was not in attendance.

Still, it was a full house.

Predictably, there was an awful lot of food prepared by Mrs. Weasley, and even though Hermione protested that she had eaten with her parents, the kindly mother insisted that she should eat a little more, and that she looked like she had gotten a bit too thin lately.

"So, how are things with the Malfoys?" Arthur Weasley asked, straight to the point. "I've known the family for a long time, and if you ever need… help, with anything, you let me know. We were thinking of doing another dark artifact raid on the place since the boy was acquitted."

"I thought he was on probation?" Harry said.

"Yes, well… Essentially the same thing for a family like his. Either way, a kid like him messes up again and he's off to Azkaban in a flash."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think a raid is necessary. Those two are trying very hard to get in the good graces of the public again- they won't step a toe out of line. In fact, the whole experience of the past couple years seems to have changed the Malfoys immensely." Had Draco really changed? She was sure he had, despite outward appearances.

She felt oddly defensive about her new home and its residents, even though she hated the place herself. But… she didn't want everyone talking about her as if she were a princess in need of rescue. She was perfectly fine. Happy, even, now that she knew she had at least one friend who wasn't afraid to visit her in that behemoth of a house.

Ginny grinned at her in what could only be approval. "Oh, yes," she said. "I was just telling everyone how Draco stood up to your big-bad mother-in-law last night." She turned to the room at large. "It was brilliant. I never thought Draco Malfoy would tell his mommy where to shove it."

"She was being thick," Hermione mumbled.

"Well, Narcissa Malfoy was never known for caring about other people's opinions. She is, however, a master at manipulation. I would be very careful if I were you," Mr. Weasley warned, wagging a finger. He made no comment about Draco standing up to the woman. No one but Ginny did.

"I know," Hermione said with a sigh. "I've found that out the hard way already." She thought of the love/fertility potion, and frowned. "But I think I can handle her."

"Well, Ron," Ginny said, suddenly jumping up out of her seat to change the subject. "I have a present for you!" She shoved a gift in his hand, and other people in the room pulled out their own carefully wrapped parcels. Hermione felt kind of stupid for not bringing anything… she had had a busy day, but she could at least have brought him a book of some kind.

He held up the gift Ginny gave him, frowning. "Ginny, what the hell is this?"

George was on the floor now, laughing. "We thought you could use it…"

"…you know, when you get sick of looking at books…" Ginny added.

"…or on those cold lonely Egyptian nights when Mildred is off studying…."

"…I've heard "Vampire magic" is quite popular."

Ginny really had been spending too much time with her jokester brother.

Ron stared at his siblings. "Sometimes, I hate you all." But he followed that with a good-natured laugh, handing the "Patented Daydream Charms" to Mildred, who looked quite interested in the cover art.

The rest of the party passed with good humor and tearful goodbyes to the youngest son of the Weasley clan, Hermione included. She couldn't believe she wasn't going to see her good friend for over six months- that's how long they had decided to be away.

"Goodbye, Ron," she said. "I hope you learn a lot over there, and that Mildred's love of books rubs off on you."

"That's not the only thing she'll…"

"Ginny!" her mother yelled, and Ginny grinned unrepentantly.

...

For the next week, Hermione waited for her NEWTs result with bated breathe. The school always tried to get them out quickly, so students could start looking for employment. At the end of her first week at the Manor, an owl arrived that was clearly not Malfoy stock.

She jumped from her perch by the window, dropping her book on Metal Charming and throwing the window open. The small bird flew in, dropped the letter, and flew back out without even waiting for a treat. It must have a very busy schedule today, what with all the students waiting on their NEWTs- both the regular seventh years and the returning seventh years.

She opened the letter hurriedly, eyes scanning the document.

Transfiguration: O

Potions: O

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: O

History of Magic: O

Astronomy: O

Ancient Runes: O

Arithmancy: O

Advanced Apparition: O

She stared, hardly daring to believe her eyes. Straight "O's!" She jumped, calling out her victory, though of course no one would hear her, except perhaps some hidden house elves. Ginny had been right about one of her predictions, at least.

She could apply for any job she wanted! She wanted to prepare herself fully, of course, for whatever career she eventually pursued… but the two apprenticeships now seemed well within her grasp.

For the first time in months, she felt like the universe was finally going her way again.

...

She had sent in her applications immediately for both positions, but had heard back almost as quickly from the Goblin Liaison Office. They were quite excited, the letter said, to interview a witch with her impressive qualifications right out of Hogwarts. They requested her interview to be the day after tomorrow, and she quickly put quill to parchment writing them back.

She then sent a letter straight to her parents, telling them the good news, pouring out her hopes and dreams. This was one thing she could be completely honest with them about, and she received a gushing letter back asking her to visit for dinner tomorrow.

And so, she found herself once again spending the evening in her childhood home, sitting to dinner in the large, but still cozy and warm, dining room. She missed this place… it had been a long time since she could call this place "home," what with the long period of camping she did the previous year, and her current… housing situation that her parents knew nothing about.

"Oh, Hermione! I just know you'll get your dream position! Whichever one you get, it was meant to be. You sound so enthusiastic about both!" Her mother beamed.

She smiled and nodded gratefully. "I'm pretty excited… but I don't want my hopes to get too high. There are a lot of good students in my graduating class applying for positions in the Ministry…" She thought of Draco, and wondered what his scores had been like. He had mentioned working for the Ministry- What internship would he apply for?

"Well, we should celebrate your good scores, anyways!" Her father said. "Do you remember Doctor Barinson? From the old clinic on Devonshire Square?"

Hermione nodded. He was her father's co-worker from the days before he opened his own clinic. The two had been very good friends, but had drifted apart in recent years. She remembered him vaguely, and seemed to recall that he had moved away somewhere in the countryside to retire early.

"Well, he's in town with his wife and son next weekend, and I promised them we'd all go to dinner! Let's make it a celebration dinner, too. You remember their son, Benjamin?"

Hermione paused, thinking. Finally, she shook her head. "I didn't think Dr. Barinson had any children."

"Oh, come on! Surely you remember? You two used to play together when you were just thiiiis big." Her father said, indicating a height to the floor that was level with the bottom of the table. She grinned at her dad.

"Well, I guess I was too young to remember."

"He's very handsome," her mother said, shooting her a meaningful look. She had a strange glint in her eye, and Hermione realized that she might be setting her up. She affected a shocked expression.

"Mother!" She said, trying not to giggle. "I think he's a little young for you."

Everyone laughed, and her mother smacked her shoulder playfully. "Oh, dear. You are too smart for me. I just thought it might be nice for you to meet a nice, handsome, successful young man, but if you'd rather not…" She sighed, shaking her head dramatically, and Hermione knew she was meant to contradict her mother.

Before she could say a word her father joined in. "Maybe Hermione already has a new beau? Hmm? Scared to show us your new boyfriend, Pumpkin?"

Hermione tried not to blush, but unbidden her face grew uncomfortably hot. They were just a little too close to the truth for comfort.

"Oh, ho! So she does!" Her mother said, but her father suddenly paled. He had expected his teasing to be met with a denial.

"Well, it doesn't matter," her mother said, smiling. "We'll all have a nice dinner, and if you want to invite your new _friend_ along…"

"No!" Hermione said, just a little too loudly. "I mean, you're mistaken. I don't have a boyfriend." She looked at her dad. "You can relax."

He laughed with her, but she could tell he still had his suspicions.

...

"Mrs. Malfoy," said the Head of the Goblin Liason Office, Evelyn Valley. She was new to the position since the death of the last Head during the terrors of last year, but the word was that she was very good at her job. It was a respected position, and she was doing it justice. Hermione had done her homework before her meeting, and was excited at the chance to work with the round-faced woman. "Your qualifications for our entry-level internship program are obviously above and beyond our standards. Tell me, what makes you want to work with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She had anticipated and prepared for this question. "In truth, I hope to one day make progress in my own endeavor to create more concrete legal rights for House Elves. I believe that, while many of them like the work they do, they are conditioned to think this way. Even if they want to work in wizard homes, I believe there need to be better protective laws for their rights as Beings, and a minimum wage put in place. I hope working with the Goblin Liason Office will help better my cross-species diplomatic skills which will be necessary to achieve my goal."

The woman raised her eyebrows, adopting the skeptical look Hermione had grown used to seeing when she talked about House Elf rights. "My dear, perhaps you should be applying for the Office for House Elf Relocations. They always have positions open…"

"Please, don't misunderstand. I find Goblin politics fascinating! Perhaps, through this internship, my goals for the future will change. But I don't mean that I want to help with relocating elves. That department was created with the best of intentions, but I don't believe it is widely utilized…"

The woman snorted, obviously agreeing.

"I want to learn how to facilitate relations between magical creatures and Witches and Wizards. No place would be better suited to my goals than the most important office in the Department."

Mrs. Valley nodded, a diminutive smile tugging at her lips. "Very good, Mrs. Malfoy. I see my next question, 'where do you see yourself in five years,' would be redundant. You know, I was surprised to see your application."

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, puzzled.

"Well, you know… surely you know, right?"

"Know what?"

Someone knocked at the door, and Mrs. Valley called for them to come in. The small framed secretary that had let Hermione in poked her head through the half-opened door. "You're next appointment is here, Mrs. Valley."

She nodded, and her secretary shut the door. Mrs. Valley turned back to Hermione, shaking her head. "It… doesn't matter. Thank you for your time, Mrs. Malfoy. We'll be sure to contact you soon."

Hermione was a little concerned… there was something odd about the woman's tone of voice, and the way her eyes flashed to the door. Had she said something wrong? What was she suppose to know about? She had done so much research on the position already…

She left the office, closing the door behind her. When she looked up, she was met with the pointy pale face of Mrs. Valley's next appointment.

At the same exact moment, the two noticed each other. Malfoy scowled, and Hermione pointed at him rudely.

"You! What are _you_ doing here!?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Draco said with a characteristic sneer. "Don't tell me you're applying for the Goblin Liaison Office internship?"

"Of course I am! But why on _Earth_ would you be interested in it! _You_, of all people, learning about inter-species relations!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "What dramatics. It just so happens that this is the office my father started his Ministry career in. It's quite respectable, maintaining friendly, Wizard-beneficial terms with the creatures that guard our money."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, but said nothing in return. She knew she just had to let the best Witch or Wizard win. She had made her case- all Draco had on his side was a blatant feeling of superiority over the creatures he was aiming to work with.

"Fine," Hermione ground out. "We'll just have to see who Mrs. Valley chooses."

Draco raised an eyebrow, and walked past her to open the office door. With a huff, Hermione walked back toward the elevators, for the first time wishing she and Draco talked more often so she could have had some prior notice on the fact that they were both interviewing for the exact same position.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: We didn't quite make it for a double upload, but the same offer stands today! 10 reviews and I'll post two chapters tomorrow! (HINT: The chapter 17 ends on a cliffhanger, sooo...)_

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I'm happy people are curious about "the handsome muggle boy!"  
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**Chapter 16: The Duel**

Hermione poured her frustrations into something productive, working to fill any empty spots in the Potions cupboard. There were more than enough ingredients for her to do so, and she set about brewing with confidence.

She had managed to find an old radio in what she could only describe as a "homage to the seventies" storage closet. Of course, it only picked up magical stations, but with her recent reading on Metal Charming she was able to adjust the radio in two ways. First, she managed to pick up one "80's classic rock ballads" muggle station. Second, she was able to alter the radio to have a headset jack, in case she didn't feel like playing her music out loud. While brewing, however, she felt no urge to keep the noise level down.

Interestingly enough, she found the loud obnoxious music almost calming in its familiarity. Normally when studying she wanted nothing less than complete silence, but somehow the background noise seemed to work well with making Potions. She could almost use the beat when it came down to stirring, counting her strokes easily.

The evening flew by, and by the time she crawled into bed she had almost forgotten about her run-in with her husband.

…

It was late the next evening when Hermione received an answer, by owl, from the Goblin Liason Office. In no uncertain terms, she had been turned down.

The letter cited her run-in with the Goblins last year, involving a theft from one of their vaults and the release of their dragon.

Hermione stared down at the letter, feeling several emotions at once.

_Disappointment_. She had really wanted that position, and she had thought her interview had gone so well.

_Embarrassment_. She should have known the Goblins wouldn't want her as a liaison after all she had done- apparently they didn't take "saving the world" as a legitimate excuse for theft.

_Anger_. The letter mentioned an _informer_ regarding her involvement in the break-in. She didn't think it was an accident that her past problems with the Goblins had come to light so very quickly after her interview. She hadn't thought Draco had known about her break-in, but since Bellatrix had been his aunt maybe he had heard something? And he had been only too quick to mention this to Mrs. Valley.

Draco didn't play fair, and so she was done playing nice.

"Yugo?" she called gently, and sure enough the nearby but invisible house elf came with a quick pop. It looked glad to be summoned by her, and bowed deeply.

"How's is I helping you, Mistress?"

"Where is Draco?"

His happy demeanor faltered briefly, but apparently her commands were level with any Draco might have made regarding his privacy at home. "He is being… in the dining hall, Mistress."

"DRACO!" she yelled, apparating with a loud "crack!" and bursting through the door of the hall the moment the elf had finished speaking.

Draco was sitting at the dining table alone, obviously having just finished his meal. He was holding a letter in his hands, the window still open to admit the owl that delivered it.

He smirked at her as she entered with that stupid smug look of his. "Hermione, guess who she pick- what are you doing!?"

She had her wand raised towards him, and had stopped short in the center of the room. "We are going to settle something, Draco. Right here, right now. You have been both kind and cruel to me in turn, with no apparent pattern, and it is driving me crazy! This time, though, it's about my future, and I will not let it slide!"

"Y… _your_ future? What about _my_ future? Are you that much of a sore loser?"

"Pick up your damn wand, Draco! We're dueling! You commented once that you could win in a duel when I didn't catch you by surprise; well after what you've done, this should be no surprise. Pick. Up. Your. Wand."

Draco looked stunned, sitting at the long table, his dinner plates still not cleared away. He stared at her, then back at the letter, then back at her.

"Alright," he said, and it looked as though he were mustering up his dignity and rallying his courage. He pushed himself to his feet, and pulled his wand out from his sleeve. "I warn you, Hermione, I'm not going to take it easy on you just because you're a-"

"Confundo!" Hermione cried, shooting the spell directly at his face. He dropped to the ground immediately, lying flat and letting the spell soar over him.

He jumped back to his feet, throwing "Baubillious!" at her in return. A stream of crackling lighting flew out the end of his wand towards Hermione, but his movements had been obvious and she had known it was coming. She cast a Protego spell before the lighting even left his wand, and it sputtered out around her shield.

He managed to surprise her, then, crying out two spells in careful succession. "Partis Temporus! Stupefy!"

She ducked, realizing that the first spell would dissolve her shield, but she was just a second too slow- the stun spell smacked her shoulder, making her spin and fall to the ground.

"Well, Hermione? Can you tell me _why_ you're so pissed, now, or should I just keep-"

"Aqua Eructo!" she cried, using the brief respite his words created to shake off the effects of the weak stun spell. A jet of water poured out of the end of her wand like a firehose, smacking into Draco and sending him flying. All of the dishes and the candelabra flew off the dining table, too, crashing to the ground. Draco rolled out of the way of the opposing force of the water, upending the table and using it as a shield as he ducked. The little worm was _hiding_!? In a duel!?

"You little snake! How dare you go tattling on me like a child!"

"Oh!" Draco called over the edge of the flipped table. "_That_. Well, they would have found out eventually. You _really_ didn't think it would be a problem?"

She let out a frustrated, angry screech as he admitted it, and sent a scorching spell at the table where his voice had last appeared. A hole burst in it, but behind the hole she saw no trace of her husband.

"Venus Duo!"

He had tricked her- knowing she would attack where he had spoken from, and quickly moved to the opposite end of the table. He was lying down, his torso stretched out around the edge of the table, and his wind spell caught her at such an angle that she did a complete back flip, landing hard enough to knock the breath out of her.

She groaned, and from the corner of her eye she saw Draco stand up hesitantly. "Hermione?" he asked, moving out from being the table. "Look, it wouldn't have mattered if I said something or not. The Goblins are still pissed at you- you should have realized that would be the case. Now, I don't want to hurt you…"

"Carpe Rectarum!" she cried tiredly from her spot on the ground, and a burst of rope flung itself from the end of her wand and wrapped firmly around Draco's feet. Surprised, he could only stare in shock as his legs flew out from under him and he was pulled forcefully across the room towards Hermione.

She grabbed him by the front of his robes, knocked his wand out of his hand, straddled him, and pushed her own wand to his throat. "I win," she said breathily, a burst of accomplishment making her head feel light. For some reason, this moment made her loss of the internship seem trivial, and she almost grinned at her triumph.

Draco struggled, and she pressed the tip of her wand deeper into his neck, using her body weight to keep him down. "Don't you dare move, until you admit I won."

He was looking up at her with an indiscernible expression. She expected fear, maybe a sneer, perhaps some heated words… but instead, a slight widening of his eyes and a twitch of his brow betrayed his awe, his eyes meeting hers with a strange kind of simmering heat.

Before she could discern exactly what his expression meant, he grabbed the front of her robes, just as she was holding his to keep him down- forcefully, tight-gripped- and pulled her down to him roughly.

Quicker than she could utter a spell through the wand against his skin, his lips crashed on hers, hard, desperate and wanting... and she froze. There was still a strange, giddy feeling in her stomach. Her blood still pumped with adrenaline from the fight. She knew it was a mistake... but something about the heat of the moment betrayed her, and she could almost do nothing but return the fevered kiss.

She kissed him back. And she didn't even stop to think about how insane that was.

It was like falling into a deep chasm- she knew she should stop before she hit the bottom, but as his lips moved, hot and soft and kneading against hers, she found herself letting out a small sound of approval. Her body was betraying her, almost begging him to continue with her unintentional response. His mouth just felt so good, opening slightly to hers, encouraging her to do the same. The kiss deepened as she complied, his tongue slipping against hers like silk.

With a strange, almost distant feeling of shock, she felt his growing erection against her thighs where the dress-robe had ridden up in their fight. She fought the insane and unwelcome urge to grind down against him, instead starting to pull back. She had to stop. This was insane. This had to…

He pushed her roughly around, flipping them so that he was now firmly pressed on top of her, one of his hands pressed against her breast and the other still tangled up in the front of the now hopelessly wrinkled silk of her robes. He moved the later hand so it was by her head, putting his weight on it as he brought his lips back down on hers. Their tongues were dancing in the deep kiss, and Hermione was finding it more and more difficult to bring herself back to reality as the kiss consumed her.

He moved his mouth, kissing and sucking at her neck hotly. She made more little sounds at the incredible feelings this induced- she wanted more, so much more… she wanted his lips everywhere on her body, she wanted the offensive clothing parting them to be gone…

Wrong. Wrong. So wrong.

He pushed his groin down against her through their clothing, the sweet friction making her gasp. He pulled at the buttons on her blouse, and as it started to loosen Hermione had a couple of thoughts seep into her head.

This was Draco Malfoy.

He didn't love her.

He was using her.

Well, they were using each other… and that wasn't how Hermione worked. She would never forgive herself if she let this happen in one moment of thoughtless passion.

"Draco…" she said, placing her hands firmly against his chest. He nipped at her neck, and she sighed, her head falling back. "Mmmm… wait… I can't…"

The hand working at her buttons was successful enough that he slipped a hand inside, caressing her breast. His thumb swiped over her nipple and she squirmed, shots of pleasure shuddering through her and calling out for more- more touches, more kisses…

"Stop," she made her lips say finally, forcefully and clear. Draco raised his head up, breathing hard, to look at her face.

"What?" he asked, sounding extremely irritated.

"I can't do this. We can't do this."

"Why the hell not? Admit it, Hermione: we both want this."

"You used to say you were disgusted by me…"

"I used to be wrong," Draco answered in a low, incredibly masculine voice. His comment gave Hermione pause. She shook her head, calling back her resolve.

"It… it doesn't matter if we're _attracted_ to each other…"

"Of course it does. What other options do we have, Hermione? Neither of us can exactly go out and find some one-night witch. Not while we've got these fucking rings on."

Hermione felt herself cool instantly. "Get. Off. Me. You. Prick," she said, accentuating each word with a hard, open-palm smack against his shoulder.

"Ow! Dammit Hermione, you have a way of sending out some really mixed signals!" he yelled as he rolled off of her, stood up, and straightened his robes in one ridiculously quick movement.

"Yeah, and you have a way of acting like an asshole just in time to help me remember why I won't _ever_ sleep with you! Not again! Not of my own free will!" She glowered, feeling the seething anger of their duel returning as she struggled to her feet, trying in vain to straighten and button up her own robes. Subconsciously, she started to pull at the horrible ring on her finger. "You're such a… AH!" She screamed, falling to her knees as a sharp, cutting pain dug through her entire arm. It was like someone dragging a hot knife through her flesh, though when she looked she saw no marks, no cuts… only the ring, humming slightly against the skin of her finger.

It took her a minute to realize that Draco was on the floor too, crying out and clutching his hand to his chest tightly. "Why… would you _do_ that… dammit…" he muttered, rubbing at his arm as the pain began to recede from them both.

"I didn't know it would hurt that bad," she frowned, looking at him as she rubbed away the last of the pain, stretching her hand and wiggling her fingers as if to test them. "And I didn't know you would feel it, too."

"Well, _don't do it again_."

"Don't piss me off again, since I seem to have a higher tolerance for pain than you do."

Draco stared at her, looking a little frightened. Something about the deer-in headlights look in his eyes… it made her start to laugh. She found herself shuddering with a gentle giggle, which began to make way for a full booming laugh. It was all so ridiculous! One minute she wanted to snog him, the next moment she wanted to cause him pain! He was right- she did send out mixed signals.

Draco smiled hesitantly, then frowned, then smiled again. "Have you finally lost what remained of your marbles, Hermione?"

She shook her head, trying to end her lunatic outburst. "I… gasp… I can't believe we just dueled, snogged, and found out another horrible thing about our rings all in the span of ten minutes!"

Draco shook his head, his smirk remaining as he got to his feet. "Well, Hermione, let's just get one thing straight… about the second part." He was still shaking his arm a little, as if he could will away the last remnants of the shocking pain.

She was finally able to control her laughter at that, giving him her full attention.

"I won't push you, but if you ever _want_ to… keep in mind my bedroom door is always open to you."

Her mouth fell open, but words wouldn't come out. What was she supposed to say to _that_?

"And about the first part- I hardly think attacking when I was checking to see if you were alright counts as '_winning_.' In fact, I'd label it as '_cheating_.'"

Hermione made a loud mock gasp. "I never cheat!" She decided to completely ignore his first remark- it was too weird to think about. She had wanted him- it didn't matter how crazy that sounded. Was it because she literally had no other options? Was it because he had been uncharacteristically nice to her the other day? Was it because she had lost her freaking _mind_?

She couldn't deny it, now, but she didn't _want_ to want him. So she would ignore the problem, and hopefully it would go away. Focus on childish remarks and bickering. That would work, right?

Was this because of Ginny, planting little seeds of suggestion in her brain? Or did she just get turned on by dueling, now?

He snorted. "Fine, sure, whatever. And for the record… I didn't know we were both applying for the same internship. Anything else I should know about that might make us ruin the dining room again in the near future?"

Hermione looked around. Sure enough, the table was scorched, the walls had burned lines in the shape of lightning, several dishes were in pieces, and one window was shattered.

For the first time that evening, Hermione wondered where Narcissa was. She didn't even have to ask, though, as Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry- the house elves will sort it all out before my mother returns home from this… fundraiser thing… something about war orphans? I don't know."

"The house elves? Why can't _we_ sort it out?" Hermione asked, vaguely annoyed at his flippant tone. She raised her wand, pulling the table back up into place. "We have wands, don't we? You know- _magic_? Why can't we do things for ourselves?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Are you still on about that? I would have thought that was just a ridiculous phase you went through at Hogwarts. The elves _like_ cleaning up after crap like this- they get bored when there's not enough to do around here. They don't have enough Malfoys to wait on, so they spend most of their day sitting around doing nothing…"

"Where they are neither seen nor heard," Hermione muttered, repairing the window in a flash.

Draco shook his head, and walked out of the room while Hermione continued to clean, putting everything right by herself.

...

The next morning, she sent an owl to Ginny. She had been toying with the idea last night, but had finally decided it was too late in the evening to be bothering her friend. She needed another girl to talk to about just how crazy her life was becoming, before everything spun out of control.

Ginny answered her owl quickly, explaining that her and Harry were moving into Grimmauld Place today, and asking if Hermione would like to help her move. Hermione was certain, with a house full of family and everyone carrying a wand, that moving was not something that would take all day, so she was more than willing to help.

She apparated to the burrow, watching as everyone carried small boxes outside the house and piled them on the front lawn.

"Hermione!" Ginny said, running up to greet her as her father and Harry carefully levitated a dresser down the front steps. "We're almost finished- I don't actually have very much to move. Grimmauld place is pretty well furnished…"

Hermione agreed- the small pile of boxes and the few bits of furniture would probably clash with the dark things inside the old house Harry had inherited. "You might end up replacing a lot of things as time goes on- that place has some depressing décor."

Harry laughed, coming over. "Oh, we plan on it. As soon as we figure out how to get rid of that awful painting…"

Hermione knew the one he meant, and laughed. She secretly didn't think it would be possible to remove it, but gave her friends her most encouraging smile. "Maybe you could knock out that wall?"

"Ha!" Ginny said, slapping Harry's arm. "That's exactly what I said!" She turned to Hermione, grinning. "You should help us unpack, and then we can eat some of Kreacher's home cooking. I hear he's quite good."

Hermione nodded, smiling. "Yes, once we all started treating Kreacher with respect, he turned out to be willing to return the favor. He kept us well fed for a while there during the war."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley helped apparate all of the boxes to the new house, and after a while, they made to leave, Mrs. Weasley showering her only daughter with kisses and a box full of food, "just in case."

"Oh, I always knew you would leave that house someday, but it seems like only yesterday you were begging to join your brother's at Hogwarts." Mrs. Weasley said, giving her daughter another enveloping hug. Ginny sighed, hugging her mother in return and sending Harry a look of affectionate exasperation.

"Mother, I'm not that far away. You can come visit any time…"

"This horrible Law, taking away all my children so quickly…" She dabbed at her eyes with a rag, fixing Hermione with a stare. "Oh, come here you!" she said, throwing her arms around Hermione next. "Poor dear- here I am complaining, when all the others had such good luck." She held Hermione at arm's length, giving her a serious searching look. "Are they feeding you properly? Making sure you get what you need? No one's been treating you badly, have they?"

Hermione smiled reassuringly, patting the motherly woman's arms. "Everything is fine, Mrs. Weasley."

She received a skeptical look from both of Ginny's parents, but eventually Mrs. Weasley nodded, then moved on to Harry, repeating her tearful hug.

The moment her parents disapperated, Ginny whirled on Hermione."_Is_ everything fine?" she asked, her head cocked to the side. "Because when a friend asks for help moving, the appropriate response is to make up an excuse and stay far, far away."

Harry laughed, shaking his head at that.

Hermione eyed the pile of boxes. "You barely have anything!"

"You didn't _know_ that!"

"Well, I guess I'm just too honest for my own good," Hermione added, picking up one of the boxes marked "kitchen."

Ginny rolled her eyes at that one. "Mum sent me with loads of stuff, too, as if we'd starve here without the family saucepan."

Hermione laughed, carrying the box towards the kitchen. Ginny followed, grabbing another box, and whispered after her. "Okay, maybe you don't want to talk in front of Harry, but something's wrong. I can tell. I'm good at reading people, remember?"

That was the reason Hermione had contacted Ginny… she had wanted to talk, but now, confronted with it, she felt avoidant and fatuous. Why had she actually wanted to _tell_ someone about what had happened? Wasn't it better to just let the strangeness of yesterday fester and replay inside her mind until she blew up?

She sighed. "Maybe… maybe we can talk later. Not now. You're right- I don't want to say anything in front of Harry. In fact, I'm fine. Don't worry. Forget I said anything."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, plopping her box down on the counter and leaning on it. She bent over towards Hermione, forcing her to look in the girl's eyes."You. Are. Weird," she said simply.

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She supposed she was a little weird… her feelings were all so muddled… she didn't know what she wanted. Not in life, not at home, and not even here with her friend. "I'm a mess." She told Ginny plainly, and the younger girl smiled softly.

"Yeah you are. But I'm going to help you sort it out. Let's ditch this mess and go get drinks."

"Ginny, it's barely noon."

"Did I say booze? How about coffee? Coffee is an acceptable noon drink, right?"

"Won't Harry feel… a little abandoned?" Hermione asked, looking back towards the living room. Through the doorway, she could just make out Harry digging through one of the boxes, procuring a few framed photos from inside.

"You let me deal with Harry. He understands girl-talk. There are some things boys just don't want to sit and listen to, and I'm thinking this might turn out to be one of those times." Ginny walked back out the kitchen door and down the hallway, talking to Harry in a low voice. Hermione followed slowly, and by the time she was close enough to listen Ginny was saying, "We'll be back in a couple hours."

Harry nodded, giving Hermione an odd look. What exactly had Ginny said to him? "Right…" he said, looking awkward. "Just, you know… if there's anything I can help with…"

"Nope!" Ginny said cheerfully, giving him a peck on the cheek. "Just put that stuff down- go relax! I'll help with unpacking when I get home!"

"I think I can handle it," Harry said sarcastically, sticking the photos on the wall next to the silent, curtained-covered portrait.

"Hey, she's been awfully quiet." Hermione observed, and Harry nodded.

"We bought an enchanted shawl- she can't hear anything behind it, so she's usually sleeping. It's the best we can do, for now."

The two girls said their good-bye's, and Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm, side-alonging her to Diagon Alley.

"I know a lovely little café up the street…" She led Hermione to a small shop behind "Twillfitt and Tattings," an upscale robe shop that seemed to shine an air of decadence on everything around it. The café looked quite nice, and being off the main street it had room for several seats outside. The girls got coffee and sat out under the sun, enjoying the warm summer day.

"How much you want to bet that your robes are from that place?" Ginny said, nodding towards the expensive shop.

Hermione looked down at what she was wearing. She had chosen one of the simpler robes in a dark purple for the day, and she noted the silver decorative embroidery at the wrists and the fantastic way the tailored cut made the most of her figure. "You're probably right." She muttered, looking over at the display window. The gowns on display were listed for prices that looked more like phone numbers. She frowned.

"So, are you going to tell me what strange thing happened that has you shifty eyed and withdrawn today?" Ginny asked sweetly, taking a sip of coffee. Perhaps the girl really was good at reading people.

Hermione sighed, and without further preamble, launched into the story of the internship, the duel… and what happened after the duel... well, a slightly modified version. Ginny's eyes grew wider as her story continued. She didn't interrupt; she just listened, a considering, far-off glaze over her eyes.

"Hmm…" Ginny said, continuing to drink her coffee after Hermione was done.

"Hmm?" Hermione questioned. "What do you mean, 'Hmm?' I need help here. I have no idea how I'm supposed to live with him after he… said that. After… stuff almost happened. I'm just not that kind of person, Ginny. It's_ Draco Malfoy_. I can't let something like that happen, not when he clearly still thinks of me as dirt!"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Does he now?"

"Well, nothing has happened to change his worldview, no, so I'm going to go ahead and guess that his opinion of what I am hasn't changed. Maybe he's started to accept _who_ I am, a little, but the main point is that he's decided that he likes the way I _look_. This whole thing is a superficial attraction, and I won't be used."

Ginny continued to give her a far-away stare, her lips pursed. After a moment of Hermione staring her down, waiting for an opinion, she said, "I think he's more delusional than you are."

"I… what!?"

"I think that his opinion of muggle-borns began to change the moment he decided that he didn't want to hurt people, no matter what their blood-status is. No matter how you look at it, he protected you from Nott. He didn't just hand you over to them, even though it would have been the safer option for him. Maybe he still thinks the world is organized by some kind of blood-status hierarchy, but that's just an idea ingrained in him by other people. He's never had experiences that back up those claims- you're muggle-born, yet you bested him in every class _and_ in a proper duel. That, at least, has to poke a few holes in his ideology. Then there's the undeniable fact that he cares about you."

Hermione snorted into her coffee, trying not to choke.

"I'm serious. You've seen it too- there has to be another time when he acted like he did on the last day of Hogwarts…"

Hermione tapped her cup with her nails, feeling uncomfortable with the track this conversation was going down. "Yes. He stayed up all night outside the infirmary after Theordore Nott gave me a concussion."

Ginny nodded slowly. "I knew it. Even back then, he was starting to think of you as someone important. He can deny it to himself, but he cares." She held up a hand, silencing whatever Hermione was about to say in rebuttal. "No, I'm not trying to say he's fallen in love with you, so go sleep with him. If you insist that you don't want to just have a little fun with him, then no matter what I or anyone else says you have to be true to yourself. Just because he now cares about your safety and even your _opinion_, doesn't mean anything further. However, it is something else that disproves his way of thinking."

Hermione nodded, thinking. "So… do you think someone should go point this out to him?"

"God, no," Ginny answered quickly, shaking her head. "He has to work with his prejudice issues on his own- if you try to push a change in him, he'll just fight back harder. He'll reject all of the above points, and you may lose any progress the two of you have made in being able to bare each others company."

Hermione felt her head slip, and let it drop down onto the table. She felt the cool glass against her forehead, sighing. "I have no answer. What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, what do you want to do?" Ginny asked, lowering her head to try and meet Hermione's floor-facing eyes.

Hermione groaned. "I don't know. I want him to be a regular, decent human being. I expected to be married to someone I loved, and once this Marriage Law came out, I wanted to be married to someone I could _hopefully_ love in time. But Draco… I knew there was no chance from the beginning. So why am I letting myself get confused about him?"

Ginny made another thoughtful "Hmm," and Hermione raised her head.

"What?"

"So, you're saying you _want_ to fall in love with him."

Hermione gaped. "Are you mental? Are you not listening?"

"I'm listening. You don't think it's possible, but you _want_ it to be possible. If you really despised him, you wouldn't want that."

"You are making everything a thousand times more convoluted." Hermione mumbled, drinking down the last of her latte.

"That's what girl-talk is all about." Ginny said matter-of-factly.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: Wow! Thanks for boosting reviews over 100 guys! As promised, it's a double update kinda day!_

_For those bothered by my "her and him" grammar issues... I'll look into it. I'm a bit busy lately, but I'll try and fix the problem in the future. I blame the midwest and my over-Italian family, because that's just how I was raised to phrase it lol. _

_I think you'll notice my cliffhanger at the end of this chapter- it's lucky that it's a double-upload day! Otherwise I think people would yell at me! ^.^_

**Chapter 17: The Date**

There was an owl waiting for her when she returned home, and Hermione was glad she had kept the window open when she left, just in case. The owl chided her with sharp screeching noises, putting its weight from foot to foot in its impatience. Hermione ran to a cupboard where she had started to keep some owl treats, handing one to the poor frustrated thing. It clicked its beak, ate the treat, and hopped back out the window.

She stared at the letter in her hand.

It was nothing like the nice, clean white parchment with neat writing she had received from the ministry. This letter was written in a hurry, on brown aged parchment, with small smudges of ink pressed into the back. This was her letter about the Metal Charming apprenticeship, and now she was worried.

She read the letter carefully, and was happy to see that the writer's tone was quite intelligent and forthright, despite the grimy packaging.

_Dear Mrs. Hermione Malfoy,_

_We are glad to hear of your interest in becoming one of the few skilled crafters of fine Wizarding products. We will be working on many new and exciting projects in the coming months, and are looking for someone adept at Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration to help with our workload and learn from experience. Your application has made it clear that you fulfill all three of these qualifications. The crafting of each item, from sneakoscopes to snitches, is a very personal, varied experience, as we use many inter-transcient techniques that involve much more than just Charms. We are pleased that you provided a booklist of your additional research, and look forward to meeting with you for an interview next Wednesday. _

_Mr. Franklin Wright_

Perhaps her mother had been right- she had lost the internship at the Ministry, but maybe that just meant that Metal Charming was the right place for her to be at this point in her life. Who knew what was in the future- for now she would learn how to work complex Charms she never could have dreamed of at Hogwarts.

Plus, if she got to make a Snitch, her friends were going to be _so_ jealous.

...

Draco looked at his image in the tall inset mirror, turning this way and that as he examine the long black business robes. "I think we'd do better with gray," he said to the witch beside him, who nodded as she changed the color of a swatch of fabric with her wand.

"I think you're right, Mr. Malfoy. A cool gray is very in style this season for Wizard's business attire. Would this shade be what you're looking for?"

Draco nodded at the swatch, and the witch left so he could change out of the newly-tailored robes. She would change the color for him and have it delivered to his house.

Something to wear to his first day at the Ministry.

It was exciting for him, the prospect of following in his father's footsteps. Of course, back when the Malfoys were true power-players in the inner workings of the Ministry there would have been no need for an internship. His father would no doubt have found the experience degrading, but Draco had learned that certain things about his future would not be what he dreamed they would be as a child. Things would never come as easy to him as they had for his father- too many things had changed this time around during the war. There were too many new ideals, and the once powerful Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood families were no longer regarded with respect. Quite the opposite, in fact, for those who had chosen the wrong side in the Second Wizarding War.

Of course, being filthy rich somewhat made up for the lack of respect he commanded in public.

It would take time, but eventually people would forget the small details, and accept the Malfoy's new, improved reputation as muggle-tolerating, Ministry-obeying, internship-participating citizens. A few payoffs here and there, and he was sure he'd be able to obtain a favorable position within the Ministry, one that carried weight, just like his father had had in his younger days.

Just like him.

Draco frowned at the mirror. For some reason… these thoughts of his bright future made him feel uneasy. Half-full. Like he should do… more, somehow.

What would _she_ think of the kind of person he wished to become? Would she be proud of his ambition, or would she find fault with his manipulations?

He shook his head, banishing the traitorous thoughts. Why did he _care_ what she thought?

Why did he care about her at all?

She was muggle-born, a know-it-all, and had a horrible temper when provoked. But then, he did provoke her quite a bit, he supposed. He was starting to learn what her buttons were… she was like a rattlesnake, waiting to strike, but as long as you noticed when she rattled she wouldn't hurt you.

No, that wasn't right. If you treated her well, she was sunny and warm, and her eyes would fill with approval… not like a snake, then. More like…

Gah! He was in such a weird mood. It had to be because she had spurned him the other day. He was getting all poetic thinking about her because he needed to _get laid-_ that was the long and short of it. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. There really wasn't much he could do to salvage his situation, even if he wanted to. If the fidelity charm on his ring was anything like the anti-removal charm, he wanted nothing to do with other witches.

That had _hurt_.

He didn't want anything to do with other witches, anyways. Not when he couldn't get her smell out of his mind- like old parchment and sage. Probably from playing with potions and reading in the library… he wondered if she made a hobby of making potions. Maybe they could brew together?

Ugh! There he went again, thinking too much!

He left the shop with these disturbing thoughts still floating through his mind, despite his best efforts to quell them.

...

Hermione hummed contentedly, pouring over the new books she had ordered. She had her own personal library packed away in a small pouch in her trunk, but if she ordered many more books she would seriously just consider adding them to the Malfoy family library. The books were falling over a lot, causing a mess and a lot of bent pages…

She wanted to be over-prepared for her new job. Her interview had gone so well that Mr. Wright, descendant of _the_ _Bowman Wright,_ creator of the Snitch, had given her the position on the spot. He was impressed that she already had gained a working knowledge of the inner magical mechanics of sneakoscopes, thanks to her books, and had hinted that her apprenticeship might be a short one if she showed herself to be as capable with a wand as she was with words.

She was pleased, though a bit nervous. Metal Charmers were rare, and it was known for being a very touchy art, requiring patience and detailed careful knowledge. If you made a mistake, there was a chance the mixed magics required to make many of the objects would backfire and literally blow up in your face.

She remembered that Fred and George, in order to create many of the things sold in the shop, had been very accomplished Metal Charmers at a young age. Well, they had been jack-of-all-trades, really. Candy Potioneers, Magical Creature Breeding Experts, Memory Designers… if everyone wasn't so focused on test marks at Hogwarts, someone might have noticed that the pair were much smarter than even Hermione. She didn't even notice until she had seen many of their finished projects- absolutely brilliant.

She needed to "wow" her new boss on Monday, when her apprenticeship would actually start, and the best way to do that, in Hermione's opinion, was to research until she couldn't research any more.

...

On Saturday, Hermione was excited to see her parents to give them the good news. They wouldn't really understand what a Metal Charmer was- many witches and wizards didn't even understand the complex magics involved- but they would be proud of her none-the-less. They would be happy that she was happy, and for once since the Marriage Law was enacted she was really and truly feeling optimistic.

She met them at a restaurant that was much fancier than the average place they went to. She had dressed nice, expecting this, though her selection of appropriate muggle clothes was getting pathetic. She needed to do some shopping- she hadn't bought a new muggle dress since fifth year.

Her parents were already seated when she arrived, along with Dr. Barinson and his family. She had almost forgot that she wouldn't be alone with her parents, and wondered how she could secretly tell them all about her internship while still sounding like a normal muggle.

As she approached the family, the son, Benjamin, turned around.

Hermione tried to maintain a dignified, charming smile while her jaw dropped. He really _was_ handsome. Handsome, and exactly her type- strong build, square jaw, dark tanned skin that made his liquid-gold eyes pop… She forced her attention to her parents, greeting them, and she saw her mother raise her eyebrows at her as if to say, 'I told you so.'

She hugged her parents, and as she reached her mom she whispered, "Don't you dare say it! You were right, okay?"

Her mother laughed, and they all sat down and ordered their food. Mr. Barinson talked mainly with her father, the two laughing about old times at the clinic.

"So, what is it that you want to do, Hermione, now that you've graduated from your boarding school?" Mrs. Barinson asked kindly. "Your parents just have told us all about your fantastic marks in school, and we hear there's an internship you applied for…"

"Ah, yes, I actually got the position!" she said, and everyone at the table congratulated her. Benjamin sent her a dazzling smile, and she fought not to swoon like a fourth year. He was watching her, very focused on anything she had to say, and she had the feeling he was checking her out. It wasn't often incredibly handsome strangers checked her out- if he wasn't a family friend, she might have been suspicious!

"I'll be working for a small office… it's just a little business experience, but it has a nice atmosphere," she told them, avoiding mentioning exactly where or what the office was called. She had learned through the years that when forming excuses and lies to muggles, it was best to just be avoidant rather than make up things. It was too easy to mix details up- she would tell her parents the full story after dinner, when the Barinson family wasn't listening.

"Everyone starts somewhere," Benjamin said, his eyes still drinking her in, "but not everyone is so determined to start right away. You have a good deal of ambition in you. That's an important trait in a woman."

Hermione flushed, but a pleased smile tugged at her lips.

His mother laughed, pushing his shoulder. "Oh, here's our little lady's man. Dishing out the compliments before the entree even arrives."

Everyone laughed, and Hermione met his eyes. Such a lovely shade of light brown- shockingly light against his dark features, and shining with quiet laughter. There was a lovely scent coming off him… some kind of cologne that smelled vaguely like spiced apples. "What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?" It was clear to her now that Benjamin was at least a couple years older than her. He had the kind of confidence in wearing his suit that made you think he wore it often. Her mother _had_ said he was successful, too.

"I'm actually a Compliance Officer. It's my job to make sure that various businesses practice proper ethics and keep up with regulations." He mistook Hermione's shocked look to mean she didn't think much of the job, and continued, "But I'm very good at my job- most don't make much, but I've been in pretty high demand since the Grandle Co. incident…"

He was someone who made sure other people followed the rules. He was like the adult version of a hall monitor. Somehow, to Hermione, this was a major turn on.

"That sounds fantastic!" she said honestly, leaning over the table, closer to him. "Can you tell me more about it? What was the Grandle Co. incident? I'm afraid my prep school is off in the country, and I don't check the news very often…"

He went on to explain about his job, Hermione listening intently, even as their food was served. Hermione ignored the conspiratorial looks the parents were throwing at each other- they had obviously plotted to bring the two together, knowing how much they had in common. Hermione didn't mind her mother's meddling this time, though.

They were about halfway finished with dessert when, with a shock, Hermione suddenly remembered her situation, and more specifically her glamour-concealed ring.

She put down her fork, losing her appetite instantly. What was she doing, flirting back? She had no possible future with Benjamin, no matter how handsome and charming he was. She wouldn't want to deceive Benjamin about the Marriage Law, even if her ring didn't have a fidelity-insurance feature, if by any chance they started dating.

No, she would have to just keep her distance, here. Until the Marriage Law was over, she wasn't free to find love.

For an instant, as she looked into Benjamin's soft brown eyes, she thought of Draco. She thought of how his eyes had changed, in her mind… they had always seemed flat, but lately when she saw them it was like there was much more to them. His eyes had had depth when he was watching her gloating in triumph above him, after their duel.

She tried to play it cool, making light conversation until the check arrived, but she was suddenly very jumpy. She just wanted to go home- wanting anything else that was out of her reach would just drive her crazy.

The group walked to the entrance, their parents saying their goodbyes. Benjamin hung a little back, motioning her over, and she hesitantly walked up to him.

"It was nice to see you," she said, assuming this was goodbye.

"It was _very_ nice to see you too," he answered, emphasizing 'very' and smiling that faint-inducing smile again. "I was hoping we could get to know each other better, though. I drove here in my own car- how about we go get drinks?"

"Drinks?" Hermione asked dumbly, her mind racing. What should she say?

"Coffee, then. Let's go get coffee," he said with a grin. "I'd love to hear more about your internship. I'd love to hear more about you."

She wasn't sure what made her say it, but looking into those gorgeous eyes she felt her mouth work against her better judgment. "Sure. Coffee would be great."

...

Coffee really _was_ great. He had a sense of humor, he was gentle and kind, and he seemed to appreciate her every bit as much as she liked him. She was so angry the Marriage Law kept her from pursuing him further, and promised herself that this coffee-date was the end of it. She couldn't let herself fall for this guy, and she could tell there would be a very real danger of that if she saw him again.

The two walked outside the café, heading down the street to where they parked the car.

"I had a lot of fun with you, tonight," Benjamin said, making her heart race.

"Uh… yes, me too," Hermione said, feeling oddly nervous. They reached his car, sitting alone parked down a dark street, when Hermione realized why she was so nervous. This really _did_ feel like a date. A real date. And now they were both paused, standing outside the car, looking into each others eyes… and she knew what was about to happen.

He leaned down, going for her lips.

It seemed like time slowed down for Hermione. There were a million things that could have gone through her head: the Law, the fact that they had only just met, the fact that it was getting close to midnight…

But instead, only one thing came to mind- Draco. What if he were in the same situation? She would be hurt… and she wasn't sure why. When he had mentioned finding a one-night witch after their duel, she had never been so angry- because she had been hurt by the idea of being so... _replaceable_.

She stepped back a pace, head turned down, eyes on the concrete at her feet as she narrowly avoided his lips.

"I'm sorry…" She said.

Benjamin sighed. After a moment, he said, "I'm sorry too. What's wrong? Worried about that blood-traitor husband of yours?"

She froze, her mind an icy landscape. She knew, before she looked up, that she had no chance of reaching her wand in time.

Sure enough, Benjamin had a wand out and pointed at her chest, his smile warped into something eerie and belittling. He aimed a stun spell at her point-blank, and everything went black.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: The Last Hope**

When she woke up, her senses came back in small, fuzzy bits. She was aware of a cool floor beneath her cheek- tile, or maybe marble?

She was also aware that her stomach was sore, as if someone had kicked her while she was out… which was likely.

She noticed that there was none of the instant alertness involved in innervating someone, so she had to assume she had drifted back into consciousness on her own. This being the case, she worked to control her breathing, listening to what was happening around her without opening her eyes.

"…bring her here? Would have been better not to…"

"Why? We would have used Yaxley's place if you had got to her before Hogwarts let out for the summer- that Ministry raid made it impossible to return there as a headquarters."

"I understand, father, but our _house_…?"

"No one will track her here. Now stop arguing in front of our guests."

Hermione could tell, by the subtle shuffling of feet and whispered conversation, that there were many people in the room she was lying in. The two talking… one of them was very familiar. Theodore Nott. Most likely he was talking to his father, which meant they had to be in the Nott family home.

"I hate to interrupt, gentlemen," said Benjamin, "but we are on a schedule, here. There are many steps to this kind of spell, and we only have an hour until midnight."

She tried not to panic. They knew about her ring, which would have been the last hope she had left- if they had forgotten, then she might have been transported via her own personal portkey to Malfoy Mansion at midnight. To safety.

But that obviously wasn't going to happen. Whatever the men were going to do, they would do it in the next hour.

"It seems to me that I heard a rumor about the Dark Lord accomplishing this by accident- how involved can it possibly be?"

"The Dark Lord was a much more powerful wizard than anyone alive today," said a voice Hermione didn't recognize. "We can't expect to measure up to his greatness- we can only hope to copy his accomplishments to whatever level we are capable. This is just the first of many, my friends." He was talking to the crowd at large, now. "Just think- no more worries about the Aurors. By doubling our chance at life, we are doubling our strength."

His words almost made her give up her ruse and open her eyes in her shock. She was having difficulty controlling her breathing, her heart speeding up in her panic. She had a pretty good idea what was going on, now, and what her fate would be. She had to think clearly, to come up with a plan…

"The Dark Lord is gone, and many treat what remains as a joke. Many families," she could almost hear the sneer in his voice, "have abandoned the cause. Blood-traitors, all of them. This mudblood bitch is the result of the oh-so-wise decision by our beloved Ministry to hand over the unclean to proper wizards. But not everyone took advantage of such a deal… the Malfoys were in a position to be given the most influential mudblood in the war, and they threw away the chance to deal with us."

There was a general hissing and mumbling among the crowd. Clearly they were not fans of the new image the Malfoys were trying to cultivate for themselves.

'Keep talking,' Hermione prayed silently as an idea began to take hold. She had one chance, and it would involve her moving. She began to slowly, slowly inch one of her splayed hands over in front of her, working to reach her other hand…

"I will be the first to create a Horcrux since the fall of the Dark Lord, but I promise you my brothers: before the year is out, we will all have our own back-up plans that will ensure our victory in future endeavors."

Hermione almost had it… a few more inches…

"This mudblood," he grabbed her hair, hauling her upright. She screamed, and now everyone knew she was awake...

She would have screamed anyways, though. She had reached her ring. She pretended the pain was from the man in the Death Eater's mask's fist wrapped in her hair and not from the coursing, ripping curse in her arm. It wasn't hard to pretend- she was scared, and screaming only seemed natural given the situation.

The man seemed pleased with her reaction as he started his speech again, "This mudblood whore will be my ticket to immortality. Hermione Granger… oh, yes, we've all read her name in the Prophet, right next to Potter's. This will deal a blow to our enemies." He leaned close to her, whispering in her ear. She could feel his hot breath on his neck as she struggled to get away from him. "I'm afraid this will be very messy," he told her in a fake whisper for the crowd surrounding them to hear. "You see, everything we've found dealing with Horcrux's requires us to chop you up into little pieces. We don't need all the pieces, though- we'll see to it Potter gets a souvenir. Should we send one to young Malfoy, too? Which piece do you think he would prefer?"

Several men in the circle seemed to have an answer to that, and a cold snickering flowed through the crowd.

She managed to disentangle her hair from the man, feeling several chunks tear from her scalp in the process. She turned to the crowd, looking for a gap. She saw a spot with less hooded figures, and ran for it, all the while pulling her ring. She didn't have a wand- someone had taken it- and she knew there was no way she could escape on her own. But she needed to distract them, to play the hysterical woman trying to run.

Maybe it was all the times in the past eight years that she had almost died, but she found herself not really fearing for her life. She knew she would probably die, but she knew it in an odd, detached sort of way. Like she didn't really believe it.

Her true horror came from what she knew would come of her death- a Horcrux. These fools were trying to make a Horcux. Maybe more than one. If it came down to it, she would rather get herself killed fighting them than let them use her like that.

How did they even know about Horcruxes? Someone must have had their suspicions about Voldemort… maybe it was the fact that the group had broken into Gringotts to steal the cup. Last year, many of their moves would have seemed suspicious to the Death Eaters. Voldemort wouldn't have been able to keep his secret for long, even if he had lived.

The trio, however, had been very careful not to mention the Horcruxes to anyone but their closest friends and allies. They didn't need copycats out there, making themselves immortal and tearing their souls apart… and yet here she was, in a room full of people looking to make that happen.

She couldn't let them.

Two men moved to block her path, and she plowed into them, not trying to get past them but instead changing tactics and kicking and punching them. Hermione didn't really know how to fight without a wand, but she only had to piss them off enough for them to make a careless mistake…

She either had to use that mistake to escape, or get herself killed. Either way, no Horcrux.

"Levicorpus!" the man who had grabbed her hair yelled, and with a horrified scream she was dragged back and up into the air, hanging by an ankle. Her black muggle dress fell down past her waist, making her feel oddly embarrassed, and exposed, despite the fact that these people planned to kill her anyways… very soon.

He tutted, wagging a finger. "These men have been planning for this day too long- did you think you could escape? Make them fight you? We don't have time for such games." Seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled out a long, wicked dagger. It looked familiar somehow… it looked just like Bellatrix's dagger. When Hermione saw it, her blood ran cold, her mind filling with horrific memories of that night at Malfoy Manor and the events that transpired there.

_Was_ it Bellatrix's dagger? Had they somehow obtained it from Shell Cottage? Or was this some kind of special dagger they thought they could use to make Horcruxes?

It would explain why Bellatrix had had one, she supposed. If anyone wanted an evil-purposed weapon like that, it would have been that monstrous woman.

She struggled, but couldn't hope to break out of the hold of the spell without a wand in hand. She reached for the edge of her skirt, pretending she was trying to hold it over her panties when in fact, she was using the opportunity to tug at her ring again.

She had one chance left, and it was slim at best: Draco.

...

He woke up screaming, rolling out of his bed and landing hard on the floor, his head smacking into the bedside table. He rolled, gripping his arm tightly and holding it to his chest.

He scrambled for his wand, casting a quick sputtered "Lumos" through his pain.

He was certain he would find only bloody, shredded remains of his arm. He was amazed, therefore, to see that there was apparently nothing at all physically wrong.

"Shit!" he yelled, as the pain took hold again. And again. And again.

What the fuck was she doing!? This had to be that blasted ring! What could he have possibly done, sleeping quietly in bed, that pissed her off so badly?

The next wave of pain made his breath leave him, and he fell to the floor with quick gasps. It was still _coming_- why wasn't she stopping? Was someone _else_ trying to take off her ring?

At that thought, he began to grow concerned. Why would someone do that? Where was she, anyways?

"Yugo!" he yelled, calling for the house elf assigned to Hermione. The old creature appeared immediately, bowing at first, and then looking startled at his condition.

"Young Master Malfoy! You is going to see a Healer?"

"No… where is Hermione? Is she in her bedroom?"

The old elf shook his head warily, crouching down and keeping his head low as if he expected to be beaten. "Master Malfoy, the new Mistress hasn't come home yet tonight. I is waiting up for her with her evening tea- she is usually reading in bed with tea, you know- but she is not coming home yet."

Draco gasped, a new wave of pain shuddering up his arm like blades. "Where?" he managed, gritting his teeth past the pain. "Where is she?"

The elf looked beside itself, pulling on its ears and shifting its weight from foot to foot. "She is gone to see hers icky muggle parents. I is sorry! Should I have told Master? Should I fetch hers?"

Draco shook his head. She wasn't with her parents anymore, that much was certain. The pain didn't lessen, but as he began to grow used to it he noticed something… odd. There was a pattern to the pain. Pain, stop, pain, stop, pain, stop, pain… Long pause.

"Yugo," Draco said, grabbing the book off his bedside table. "Get the lights for me, will you?"

The elf looked absolutely ecstatic that it could help with what was obviously a dire situation for his Master, and he hurried to light all the bulbs in Draco's room with quick bursts of magic.

Draco flipped open his Arithmancy book to the page that had turned up on the NEWT: Chinese numerology. Four. She was tugging at intervals of four.

He knew what it meant, but he had to check anyways.

Death. There was really no other way to read a message like that. Surely she would know they had both done well on the Arithmancy NEWT to apply for the internship- this had to be what she meant.

He swallowed, not at all comforted by her message. He was starting to panic, now. It was clear that wherever she was, her life was in danger.

He pushed his own pain to the back of his mind, trying to think. It had to be Death Eaters- who else would want to harm someone like Hermione? Someone who treated people with respect and kindness even if they were just a stupid elf? Why was it that she always had to suffer?

He remembered her screams once more, echoing through his home as his aunt crucioed her again and again… He remembered seeing her, writhing on the floor, meeting his eyes only once as tears streamed down her face…

He shook his head. He needed to stay focused. He couldn't let himself be distracted, imagining the worse.

Pain. Stop. Pain. Stop. Pain. Stop… He counted carefully. This time, there wasn't a long pause for a very, very long time. By the end of it, he was shaking, his whole body convulsing against the agony in his arm.

Thirty-Six. This had also been another section of their exam, and Draco didn't need to look in his book. This was a powerful number combination, Hebrew origins instead of Chinese this time. It meant "an enemy," or "the enemy of God."

An enemy… well, obviously. If they were Death eaters, then they certainly weren't Draco's friends any longer…

Nine. A snake. A Slytherin? Obvious.

Two. Household.

Thirty-one. Again, he was left breathless- the pain was exquisite. He had been crucioed, once, and it had been bad- an all-over, every nerve on edge, screaming pain. This was a very different, centrally located pain… but when in rapid succession, it felt very similar to a Crucio.

He couldn't remember thirty-one, and he was pretty sure this was the one part of her message that had not been on the exam. He shifted through his book. The pause in the pain this time was very long, and that, more than anything, made him worry. Was he too late to decipher her message? Was she being tortured to insanity now, even as he paged through a book and hoped for answers?

Offspring.

Offspring? Child? Snake enemy's child's household.

The son of a Death Eater. A Slytherin's household. There were a few options there, but Draco thought he probably had enough to go one at this point.

Hoping he was right, Draco jumped up, turned to Yugo, and gave him very specific instructions on bringing backup to the Nott household. Before turning on his heel and disapperating to what he desperately hoped would not be his own painful death, he doubled back to his bedside, grabbing something from a small box on the shelf.

A Weasley Wizard Wheezes emergency kit. He had bought it on a whim through owl recently… he wondered if the fireworks were really any good.

...

She cried out, tears pooling in her eyes and sliding up her face as the knife cut into her wrist, her blood pouring down her fingers in a speedy river. It dropped into the bowl in the man's hands, and he put the bowl carefully on the floor under her to collect more on it's own.

She couldn't pull her ring anymore. She couldn't even move. He had cut her other wrist, too, and she felt her body growing weaker as her blood dripped down.

The man was saying something. Something about life blood, yadayada… the usual Dark Magic evil poetic crap. She could barely hear. Sounds were faint now, like she was listening to everything down a long tunnel.

They had cut her hair, too. She had heard _that_ speech, and if she had been in a better position she might have rolled her eyes. There was some small consolation in all of this- she was certain these people had all been duped. This ceremony _wouldn't_ create a Horcrux.

Hermione was one of the few people in existence who had read the book "_Secrets of the Darkest Art_," in order to learn more about Voldemort's Horcruxes and how to destroy them. The trio had burned the book last year, ensuring no one else could read it…

Whoever had told these people that a Horcux was made this way would probably get their's after this ceremony was over. After Hermione was dead, and the Death Eater before her failed to split his soul in two and place it in the geode he had in his hand.

Fools. She could almost laugh. Maybe that was the blood-loss talking… Hopefully she would black out before they got to the "cutting you to pieces" bit.

She wondered, as she hung there, the knife descending towards her hand, what her friends would think. The Death eaters were right about one thing- this would hurt them. They would feel responsible, somehow, as if they were expected to watch her every move and protect her. Especially Harry. Harry always took death very personally, as if he were the only person on earth able to save anyone. Sirius… Dumbledore… Dobby… Hermione… So much guilt for someone who was stuck with a fate he didn't ask for. He's just a person, her closest childhood friend… why should he have to go through so much?

What about Draco? He seemed to care about her safety, but once she was dead and gone would he get over it quickly? Maybe feel some relief at being free from her? He would have to remarry- the Law required it- but this time he could _choose_. Maybe a muggle-born who was less likely to attack him at dinner… someone who would be happy to shut up and use the family money and do what she was told…

Draco. She hoped he wasn't too mad at her about the pain the rings had caused. For some reason, she didn't want to think of him mad at her now, before she died. She was certain he hadn't gotten the message she had sent- it was too vague. Certainly not her best work. Besides, what would he do if he _did _understand the message? He might try and get help from her friends. Maybe the Aurors? He wouldn't come on his own, though, and by the time he got help she would probably be dead.

It was almost midnight, she was sure.

The knife bit into the skin between her thumb and forefinger on her left hand, and she grimaced more at the sawing motion the man used than the actual pain. She didn't look, and she could only barely registered the pain. It was nothing compared to the ring's pain, anyways, and she had grown quite numb to that during the ten minutes she had pulled at it.

Suddenly, the sawing stopped. The knife was removed. She had no idea why- there were only muffled voices in her ears and moving shadows in her vision, now…

Then, there were bursts of light. She struggled to see, suddenly interested. What was that…? Defensive magic? Was that red sheen a stunning spell?

No. No it wasn't. She recognized the haphazard trail the light created across the room, the figures in black ducking down to avoid it. It was a god-damned Weasley firework.

Her heart soared. Could it be? Could help have really arrived in time? Or maybe she was already dead, and this was all in her mind? It didn't look very much like King's Cross, though, as Harry told it.

Suddenly, she fell, the spell on her released. She expected to make contact with the hard ground and braced herself, gasping as she felt arms wrap around her, catching her and pulling her upright.

It was no good. She couldn't walk- she could barely move her head up to look at the masked figure in black holding onto her.

Maybe if her brain had more blood pumping up to it, she might have thought about who it was who had let her down and caught her. However, in her current state she saw only the mask, the same mask worn by the man who had been cutting her up for... how long? Long enough for her to be suffering from some pretty serious blood loss… not to mention that her hand was partially-severed… he had probably been trying to remove her ring finger to buy them more time… so, an hour? Forty-five minutes?

She pushed at the man weakly, stumbling to the floor as she lost his support. She could barely even crawl, but she used what strength she had to crawl away from the pools of blood, red and clear in her vision against the clean marble floor.

The men had gotten the firework under control, now.

The figure knelt down next to her, his hand coming up to lift his mask just enough that she could see his face from her vantage point on the ground.

Draco? No, Draco wasn't a Death Eater anymore. So why was he wearing a mask? The whole thing was crazy to her foggy mind.

The world around her began to spin, but she heard his words slipping out quietly from beneath his mask. "Don't be afraid- help is coming. I'll buy us time."

She stared up at him and he returned to his feet, stepping back to blend into the crowd that was beginning to gather around her once again, now that the distraction was gone.

"Who let her out of the levitation jinx?" said the voice of the man who wanted a Horcrux.

Hermione held her mangled hand close to her chest. The black fabric of her dress soaked up the blood- it didn't even leave a stain. Yugo wouldn't have too much trouble washing this dress, at least.

She was delirious, her head bobbing around as she sat on the floor, looking around for the figure that was Draco. She didn't know who it was. He could be any of the men with snake-like slits for eyes around her, looming over her in their dark robes. Or it could even be that none of them were Draco, and she had hallucinated the whole thing.

The Horcrux-man lifted his wand towards her again. "Levico-"

Before he could finish the spell that would rip her off the ground again, there was an explosion to their right, and a sudden darkness descended on the crowd. It was thick- like the air around them had been replaced with ink- and Hermione wondered if she had actually gone blind.

She felt a hand grab the back of her dress, twisting in the fabric as another hand touched her good arm gently, trying to pull her up.

The two forces were opposed to each other- the hand at her back was the Death Eater. The hand on her arm… it had to be Draco. She used what remained of her strength to spin around, lie back, and send a kick up into the spot she hoped was the man's groin. She connected, and strongly suspected she was right as he groaned loudly and released his grip on her.

The hand on her arm pulled, and immediately she felt her weight resting on someone's shoulders. She could barely move, and so the figure dragged her to the side of the room. He tapped her head sharply with what she assumed was his wand… and she felt the cold dripping sensation of an egg cracking on her head.

And then she was alone again.

The blackness of the Peruvian Darkness Powder faded from the large marble-floored room as the wizards set gusting wind spells about the place, directing the dust out an open window.

"Dammit!" A voice called out.

"Where did she go!?"

"Is this clock slow? Is it midnight?"

Everyone was beginning to panic, and she saw a few wizards head for the door. If she escaped, they knew it was only a matter of time before Aurors descended on the place.

"STOP!" boomed the amplified voice of the Horcrux-man, his wand at his throat to make himself heard.

Everybody froze.

"NO ONE LEAVE!" He removed the wand, eyes sweeping the room. "We have a spy in our midst. Whoever set off those two distractions was here to get the mudblood girl- no one can apparate on this estate! We have to find them! If anyone leaves, we'll consider them the traitor and they can share the girl's fate!" He held up his bloody knife for emphasis.

Everyone in the room seemed to take the threat very seriously- they all backed away from the door, some nearly stepping on her invisible form in the process. She tried to make herself a ball on the floor, drawing her knees to her chest and pressing herself against the wall. Draco had cast a Disillusionment charm on her- she could barely see the knees that she was hugging with her good arm, or her ruined hand still resting at her chest.

However, if someone looked hard enough, they would be able to see her. She had to keep very, very still.

"All masks off, now!"

One of the Death Eaters scoffed. "You are most certainly _not_ the leader in this little operation, Carrow," the man called out angrily, "and we won't expose our identities so easily. There is a reason we wear these masks."

The Horcrux man, Carrow, laughed. "Please, Jugson. Don't think for a minute that these masks are fooling anyone- I know each face underneath, as do you all. Now, if you don't want to risk Aurors swooping down on us as soon as our enemy manages to escape _take off your masks_!"

Slowly, reluctantly, the men began to reveal their identities. Hermione took in many faces- most unfamiliar to her. Of course, she saw Benjamin… she wondered what his real name was. He must have changed her parent's and Dr. Barinson's memories.

She had been so stupid, letting herself be cornered alone, with her guard down, on a dark deserted street with a man she didn't really know. Was she really so easily fooled by a pretty face? Apparently.

This whole mess was her fault, and if Draco paid for her mistake…

She couldn't bear it.

There was only one dark figure still wearing a mask, and he removed it slowly, with shaking hands.

Everyone stared at the tall blond figure, and very slowly they began to draw their wands.

"The Malfoy brat… well, well, I guess your miraculous survival record has met its end, kid. You're really not the brightest, are you?"

"Bright enough to know that if I'm here, I didn't come alone," Draco said loudly. His voice was wavering slightly at the end, but he tried to put on a brave face, his chin held high.

Some of the other men looked nervous, and a soft tittering swept through the crowd.

"Shut up!" Carrow yelled at them, "He's clearly bluffing. There's no one else here."

"Not yet, you pathetic excuse for a Wizard," Draco sneered, his wand held high and pointed at Carrow despite all the wands locked on him. "Stop and think. Would I leave without letting anyone know where I was going? If I was coming to save the _best friend_ of Harry Potter, who might I have informed of this fact?"

Carrow seemed a little nervous now, and he didn't bother to yell at the crowd as that nervousness spread. "So… so what, he's just a boy!"

"Yes. Just a boy who commands the respect and attention of many of the best Aurors of our time. The same boy who single-handedly defeated the Dark Lord. Just a boy who would destroy anyone who hurt a girl he considers a sister."

No one even moved to disarm Draco. In fact, many of the wands were lowered, now, their owner's eyes darting towards the door.

With an angry growl, Carrow shot an unforgivable Draco's way. The boy blocked it, and the spell shot off and hit one of the other robed figures. As the man twitched on the floor in pain, it seemed as though that was the last straw for the crowd- men ran for the door. It wasn't worth their time to risk dueling and getting caught up in a Ministry raid. Draco threw a shot of green at Carrow in turn.

As the two dueled, the windows of the room suddenly imploded, men and women wearing Ministry symbols on their backs flying in on brooms and landing hard on the ground, their wands up and ready for action. They leveled their wands at the two cloaked figures circling each other.

"Drop your wands!" yelled a woman with blond hair pulled back tight in a ponytail.

"Wait!" called another voice- a very welcome male voice. One of the riders stepped forward, letting his broom drop, his wind-swept black hair a mess in his face. Harry. "I hardly think Malfoy wants to drop his wand until Carrow's in custody."

Carrow screamed, mad with rage, and whirled around to face Harry. Before he could utter a word, however, the blond Auror stunned him, throwing him violently back against the wall opposite from Hermione.

Immediately and wordlessly, Draco ran towards where she was hiding, the Aurors parting to let him through even as they chased down the fleeing masked figures.

"Malfoy…" Harry started, but he was ignored.

Draco knelt down next to her and tapped her head with his wand, releasing her from the Disillusionment Charm. Several Aurors gasped, making their way towards the injured figure on the floor.

Draco touched her face, softly, as it came into view first. It was an unconscious gesture, and she wondered just how much like death she resembled to warrant such concern. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She almost laughed. No, she wasn't okay. She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up at him, this boy who never put his life on the line for anyone else. He had saved her. She would never have predicted it, but he had.

He stared at her as if he could read her every thought. Though she knew she was in a terrifying bloody state, he leaned his head down and inexplicably brushed his lips to hers, holding her face in both hands. She wasn't sure if the kiss was too light for her to feel, or if her lips were numb. "I thought you were already gone when I got here," he said, pulling away. She saw that he had tears spilling from his eyes, now, a few rogue droplets falling down his face and onto the pool of blood on the floor. "I thought I was too late." He held his head to her shoulder for a brief moment, and with a couple deep breaths he stood up, wiping at the last of his tears furiously.

The blond Auror stepped forward immediately, pushing Draco out of the way. "I'm trained as a Healer- everyone stand back." She produced a small pouch, and began pulling out various potions and salves.

Most of the Aurors ran to track down the fleeing Death Eaters, but Hermione felt perfectly safe in the company of Draco and Harry. And the Healer. The Healer was very, very important.

…

_A/N: Did Carrow die in book 7? I've begun to think that I read somewhere he did, and if so excuse my small mistake and shrug it off._

_Also, I hope the Numerology wasn't too... what's the word... cheesy? Hokey? I liked the idea of her conveying a message in code, but I'm aware that Arithmancy is a little different from Numerology. I hope it seemed okay._


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews! I hope everyone's questions are answered in time- some things are not addressed until way later, but I think this chapter should be satisfying. _

_We should get to some fun stuff for Christmas... I should tell you, expect a Christmas present from me! I'm not the type of person who expects a gift back, but a few extra reviews my way miiiight encourage me to make my present a bit bigger. _

_**...**_

**Chapter 19: The Burrow**

"What the hell went on here, Malfoy?" Potter whispered, eyeing the Healer bent over his injured friend. "The last time I listened to the advice of an old house elf about friends in trouble, it went badly for me. You're lucky I decided to trust you on this- I'm still not sure why I did."

Draco nodded. He knew that there had been a chance his request would go unanswered. It didn't matter. He had to come. He had no choice. There was no time for anything else that might have saved her.

"I think she was tricked, somehow, when she was visiting her parents."

Potter stared. "So that's why you asked Ginny to bring some Aurors to her family's house? Do you think they…"

"I don't know. They might have all been attacked, and if that's the case I'm sure these people wouldn't have left the muggles alive."

Potter was silent at that somber thought. Draco tried not to think about it too hard- if her parents were dead, this was not the time for her to find out about it. She needed to spend some time at St. Mungoes, and Draco expressed as much to Harry, who nodded in agreement. Hermione's dark-haired friend was giving Draco a very strange, contemplative look, but with the events of the evening still pounding through Draco's brain he didn't even have the energy to come up with a snappy response. Let Potter think whatever he wanted... Draco was certainly more confused about his own actions than anyone else, anyways.

"You know, this repays the life debt, I think." Potter said quietly.

Draco tried not to feel too relieved at the boy's statement. It certainly gave him a convenient excuse for his insane rescue mission, and he nodded in agreement. He didn't save Potter, but saving Hermione was close enough, right?

But that wasn't why he did it. Not really.

"I'm going to go meet up with Ginny, then- I'll tell you when I have news. Make sure Hermione gets to St. Mungoes safe, alright?" It was unclear if he was talking to Draco or the Healer, but Draco answered anyways.

"It's my top priority," Draco said honestly, watching the Healer intently as she worked to knit the skin on Hermione's wrists back together with her wand.

He had kissed her. The first time they had kissed, it had been awkward and forced. The second time, it has been facilitated by a love potion. The third time, it had been all lust.

But this time… this was different. He had been so incredibly glad to find her still alive… when he had seen her hanging there, so still… he had felt like something heavy was pressing down on his soul. He had been stunned, and couldn't figure out where he would even go from that point. How could he go home without Hermione? How could he see her mangled flesh every time he closed his eyes, knowing that he would never be able to see her smile again?

Being too late would have been another failure to add to his long list, another dark stain on his conscience. When Hermione had been tortured by his aunt during the war, when she had managed to miraculously escape Malfoy Manor before her inevitable murder, he had seen it as a small reprieve. So many horrible things had happened among the Death Eaters, and it had been an incredible gift to_ for once_ witness an outcome that didn't include blood and death. It didn't matter that they were all punished by the Dark Lord afterwards... though at the time, of course, that had _certainly_ mattered to him. The point was that he hadn't had to watch his former classmates die that day, and it was a refreshing change.

Then tonight, it was like the universe mocked him, bringing her here. Making him see her hang like that, pale and silent as death. Reminding him of that night before, and his own helplessness...

But she was alive. He had made it on time. She was alive, and he had never been so grateful for any small mercy before.

He realized that Potter hadn't moved to leave yet, and turned back to the boy.

The look he received in return was so puzzling it put Draco on edge. "What?" he asked, feeling instantly defensive.

"Malfoy, do you…" Potter started, then shook his head. "Nevermind. Just… what you did was incredible. Not everyone would risk themselves like that for someone else. You're a hero, Malfoy."

Draco gave him a blank stare in return, setting his expression into a carefully neutral mask. He didn't know how he felt, or how he was _supposed_ to feel, upon hearing those words from his old school rival. He really hadn't stopped to think about _why_ he had to do what he did- he just formulated a plan and acted.

All any human could do was try their best to do what was right- in the past, Draco would never have done so if he had to add the phrase, 'and damn the consequences.' But this time, he hadn't really stopped to consider himself. He had wondered, briefly, if he might die, but had never considered any option where he didn't _try_ to save her. He didn't feel like a hero. In fact, he felt like it was all very selfish, in a way.

If he let her die when he had a chance to save her, it would be like that night during the war all over again. It would be as if he had killed her himself.

He couldn't live with the consequences.

He didn't think he could live, if he let her die.

The implications behind such a truth as this were beyond him at the moment. He was tired, and he still felt his body shaking from the fear of standing up to Carrow, and the fear of losing Hermione. Having her murdered on his watch.

He wanted to sleep, but not until he saw Hermione sleeping safely in a bed surrounded by Healers. There was just _so much_ blood in the room...

Harry left after the moment of silence extended too long, shaking his head in a mystified sort of way.

...

Hermione dreamed of many things she couldn't quite remember when she opened her eyes. She dreamed of red. She dreamed of Benjamin's twisted smile. She dreamed of Draco leaning over her, his lips touching hers as he cried.

She looked at the ceiling above her. It was a clean, bright white. She turned her head to the side. The room had light wood paneling, and a calming portrait of a sunny seaside, the wind blowing a palm tree and making the leaves sway gently. She looked down. There was a plush salmon-colored chair beside her bed, and in that chair sat a slumped figure, his silver-blond hair an unwashed mess and his robes still the dark billowing black of the Death Eaters. He was sleeping, his mouth parted as he breathed softly, his eyes fluttering now and then as if he were dreaming, too.

"You're awake," a voice said softly from her other side, and she turned her head. Harry sat in an identical chair as Draco's, leaning down with his elbows on his knees. He smiled at her, relief clear in his green eyes when she smiled back.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice alarmingly weak.

"I wanted to come by and let you know- I heard from Ginny. They have your parents at the burrow. They're safe."

"My parents?" Hermione asked, feeling confused. Of course she was worried about them- they were logical targets for the Death Eaters. But how would Harry have known that? She hadn't been able to tell anyone the circumstances of her capture, yet.

"Malfoy sent a house elf to ask me to bring Aurors to the Nott estate- fast. He also mentioned that if I could send someone to look into your parent's safety, it would probably be wise. He said you had been visiting with them before you disappeared. Ginny went, with two Aurors… Grew and Lestant, I think. They seemed a little confused… we didn't tell them what happened to you. We thought that should be up to you, if you felt the need."

Hermione shook her head. "They would feel guilty, like they had led me into the trap. But it wasn't their fault. It was mine. Oh, Harry, I feel so stupid." She raised a hand to her face, closing her eyes. "I practically handed myself over to them. I let my guard down completely, and because of that I almost… Draco almost…" She couldn't finish.

She took a deep breath, peering over her shoulder at the sleeping figure behind her. He hadn't stirred. She turned back to Harry, keeping her voice low. "He would have died if you didn't come when you did. But he hid me. I was safe." Her voice cracked, and she raised a palm to swipe at a rebellious tear. "They thought they could make a Horcrux."

Harry started, sitting up straight in his chair. "What!?" he hissed.

Hermione nodded. "Don't worry- they're complete idiots. But we need to stop them from trying again. They'll kill and kill until they get it right. Can you imagine? An army of people with ripped and tattered souls? An army of Voldemorts?"

Harry looked as disturbed as she had ever seen him. He stood up, pacing at the foot of her bed. "How could they… even _consider_ something like that?" he asked, his voice growing a little louder in his distress. "Knowing what that does to a person… seeing what it did to Voldemort… he wasn't _human_, Hermione. How can people want to become something so low, so twisted and disgusting?"

Harry stopped cold, looking at Draco. Hermione turned her head, and saw that his gray eyes were open, looking up at Harry with a frown.

"What," he asked, his voice still leaden with sleep, "is a Horcrux?"

...

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, then back to Draco. He seemed conflicted by all that Draco had overheard, and Hermione sighed.

"It's dark magic," she answered simply. "It's what Voldemort gave his soul for- seven times over." She took a deep breath. All this talking was tiring. She wondered just how many blood-replenishing potions they had forced down her throat while she slept. She was probably due for one or two more. "It's what we spent a year trying to destroy before Harry faced him. It's what they tried to make last night."

Harry winced, and she wondered if she had told Draco more than her friend wanted to. What he said next, though, made it clear that it was the last thing she said that disturbed him most. "They wanted to kill her, so one of them could rip his soul in two." He shook his head, and resumed his pacing. "Which one was it?" he growled.

"Carrow," Draco answered with certainty, his voice gravely and low with sleep... or possible anger.

"Harry," Hermione said, and managed to sit up in her bed. Someone had dressed her in a clean white gown, her bloody dress gone. "Nott was there. And his father. And someone named Jugson. And… and someone who's name might have been Benjamin. But that might have been a false name…"

Draco stared at her, his posture still slumped and low in his chair. "Benjamin Greengrass?" he tried. "Dark fellow, amber eyes, has a bad reputation for wearing Amortentia cologne?"

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Amor… Love potion?" She could have slapped herself. The way she had seemed instantly drawn to him, the way she had let her guard down just so she could be near him… but she didn't let him kiss her. "But not the ingested kind… so it's not obvious. Or strong," she said, speaking to herself. She let out a giant sigh of relief, feeling herself relax at last.

She wasn't an idiot. She had been bewitched.

"He's the one who captured you, isn't he?" Harry asked, looking furious.

She nodded. "Yes. He altered my parent's memories, and the memories of some family friends. Made them think he was their son, and made my mother try to set us up on a date."

Draco suddenly seemed far too interested, sitting up in his chair. "And?"

"And what?" she asked, feigning ignorance. She shrugged. "And he caught me off guard."

"He didn't… that is, nothing _happened_, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Other than getting carved up by a psychotic soul-ripping monster? No. Of course not." She raised her hand. The ring was still in place, and only a faint line remained where the blade had carved her hand nearly in half. "You would have been the first to know."

Draco looked extremely disturbed by her comment, his face growing pale. His mouth gaped open and closed, and he took a breath as if to answer, only to falter and stay silent.

Harry looked from one of them, to the other, and when Hermione met his eyes he raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Well…" Harry said, setting off for the door of the private room. "I'm going to see who the Aurors were able to catch. As soon as the Healers let you leave, Hermione, head for the burrow. A lot of people are very worried about you, despite my attempt to persuade them that you healed up just fine."

Hermione nodded, and with a last flickering glance at Draco, Harry left.

Hermione and Draco were alone now, in the small white room.

...

Draco was glad to see that her face had regained its color, and the longer they talked, the more animated she became. He handed her one of the small blood-replenishing potions the Healers had left, and she smiled thankfully, drinking down its contents on one gulp.

"I can't believe you understood my message," Hermione said, shaking her head as she placed the little bottle down on the table beside her bed.

Draco affected a hurt expression, a hand to his chest. "Excuse me, Miss perfect "O's," but I happened to do very well on my Arithmancy exam. You don't have very high regard for anyone's intelligence but your own, do you?"

She smiled. "Well, I must have had some regard for yours- I did send you the message, afterall."

"Which you thought I wouldn't understand."

"Oh, let's not go back and forth over who insulted whose intelligence…"

"That would be you, insulting mine."

She laughed lightly, then started coughing into her fist. Draco stood up, walking to the edge of her bed. "Are you okay?" he tried, holding his hands out as if not sure what to do with them. Should he pat her back or… something?

She held up a hand. "I'm fine. My throats a little sore… and I'm sure I have a bruise building up," she said, rubbing at her stomach and wincing.

"You were unconscious. I guess the Healers missed a few things…" he said quietly, eyeing the hand on her stomach. Someone had done this to her. Someone had kicked her and made her scream until she couldn't talk.

"Not a difficult thing to fix. A pepper-up potion and some mutlap essence and I'll be back to normal…" she snapped her fingers, as if it were just that quick.

Draco made a strained, skeptical noise in the back of his throat. "Normal? You can go through that, and just snap back to _normal_!?"

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "I've never been quite that close to death before, Draco. I won't pretend that I wasn't scared… but now there's something more important to attend to. I can't dwell on it. I just have to move forward, and help Harry…"

"The hell you do! You _should_ dwell on it- what's the matter with you!?"

She stared at him, obviously concerned at his outburst. How could she be so flippant about this? She had been tortured, cut up, nearly killed! That kind of crap comes with some serious emotional damage, and yet there she was, ready to push it all to the back of her mind.

How many times had she done this? How many times had she put the horrible memories on the back burner and let them sit? "One day, you're going to explode," he concluded, sitting back in his chair heavily.

"And that… concerns you?" she asked softly, still staring at him.

"I… yes, it damn well concerns me! I didn't risk my life to save you just so you could end up a nutter!"

She tilted her head to the side, and he realized what she was going to ask before she asked it. "So why _did_ you save me, then?"

He gulped, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. 'Why,' she had asked. "Did you really think I would just let you die?" he countered.

He dared to look up at her then, and wished he hadn't. She had a painful, faraway look in her eyes. "You would have, before." She whispered. "At the Manor, with Bellatrix. You would have let me die then…"

"There… there was nothing I could do then, and you know it!"

"I _do_ know it. And there wasn't much you could do _this_ time, but hope to hold out until help came. Harry might not have even _come_. You don't know the full story, but it's almost ironic that you sent a house elf to tell him I was in danger… I guess what I'm trying to figure out, Draco, is _what's changed_?"

He was becoming really irritated with this line of questioning. He huffed. "Are you some kind of muggle psychiatrist, now?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She sighed, lying back in her bed. "Nevermind," she said softly. "It doesn't matter why you did it. I'd never been so glad to see a friendly face in all my life as I was to see yours last night."

He wanted to tell her then… to tell her how he had felt when he had noticed that she was, in fact, _alive_ as she hung there, bleeding out. He wondered if she remembered the kiss… hopefully not. He could only blame that on the euphoria of the moment, of knowing that they were both going to live through the night.

He couldn't deny it- he cared about this muggle-born, know-it-all, bossy woman. He cared… but to what extent?

It wasn't about what he _wanted_… it was about what he could _allow_. How far would he let himself go with this screwed-up relationship he had with Hermione? Should he call her his _friend_, now? Just because he saved her life?

No, when Harry saved his life last year it most certainly did not make them 'friends.' That wasn't enough.

He couldn't be her 'friend,' and he couldn't let himself be anything more than a friend, either.

Maybe he _needed_ a muggle psychiatrist, afterall.

...

She didn't bother telling Draco she was fine to travel to the Burrow on her own, a few hours later. He made it clear he wasn't letting her go anywhere by herself, and she couldn't say she blamed him. Hadn't she proven she couldn't be trusted on her own? True, Benjamin may have been wearing some kind of love potion… but she still couldn't forgive herself for getting tricked like that.

Draco side-alonged her to their destination, since the Healers had advised she avoid strenuous magic for the rest of the day. He seemed to take the sight of the Burrow in stride, and only a slight twitching of his nose betrayed his disgust at the tilted, layered home that Hermione found so charming.

Immediately, Mrs. Weasley came bursting out the front door. "Oh! Come in come in!" she cried, running forward and scooping Hermione into a hug. The woman was near tears, clutching the girl to her. She saw Draco only after she released Hermione, and put her hands to her mouth, her eyes watering all over again. "And you! Well, you have shown your true stripes! Come here!"

Draco looked mildly horrified over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder as she hugged him, and he mouthed a quick 'what is happening?' to Hermione. She laughed, shaking her head. Mrs. Weasley was always quick to accept you into her fold if you meant well- it was just the kind hearted, loving person that she was.

She ushered the two inside, and Draco continued to look around, mystified and a little green. His eyes were wide, but he did a fantastic job reeling in his usual snobbishness, instead sending her confused, questioning looks as he noticed more and more strange rustic things about the house. The Weasley clock, for example, seemed to really intrigue him. Or disgust him. Hermione really couldn't tell, which was another point to his acting ability.

It was impressive to her that he was even bothering with his act at all. He probably didn't want to upset her in her still-fragile state... though the reasons for his sudden change were still a mystery to Hermione.

When they got to the living room, Hermione saw her parents sitting on the couch, talking with Ginny and Mr. Weasley. Her mother jumped up when they noticed her enter, running to hug her.

"Oh, honey, what happened!? Your friends ran over to tell us you were ill and in a magic hospital… what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine mom," she said, trying to disentangle herself as her mom started to feel her forehead for a fever. "I just had a small accident."

She couldn't help it. She looked over at Draco as she said that, and sure enough he gave her a frustrated, disbelieving look, his nose crinkling. She shook her head slightly, barely noticeable, hoping he would keep his mouth closed. Her parents didn't need all the gritty details of her over-complicated life. They needed a loving daughter who was following her dreams, working hard, and perfectly happy in her life.

"You cut your hair!" Her mother commented, holding up one of her short locks. Hermione touched her head nervously. Some of the Healers had been kind enough to give her a couple pins to hold down her hair, but she knew it was a disaster. It was cut shorter in the back, and everything was uneven. When her poofy hair was short, it tended to stick straight up. She planned on charming it long again as soon as she could look up a spell to do so.

"Er, yeah… thought it was time for a new look," she tried, sounding less than thrilled.

"We've met your friends before, Hermione," her father said, looking over from his spot on the couch. He was right next to Mr. Weasley, and Hermione was sure he was growing tired of answering questions about toasters, "but I can't say I remember meeting this chap before."

Hermione looked back at Draco, who shrugged. He didn't know what she wanted to say, and she was glad he was smart enough to not blurt their situation out loud. "This is another friend, dad, he's…"

"Oh, I'm good at guessing!" her mother pronounced, a finger to her chin as she stared at Draco, considering. Draco fidgeted under her gaze. He was clearly outside his comfort zone in this house, with so many people he had never really taken the time to know or like.

That was the polite way of phrasing it, Hermione knew. Malfoy had no love for the Weasleys, or her muggle parents, all of whom were currently trying to figure him out in one way or another.

"Mom, that's ok…"

"Draco Malfoy," her mom declared proudly, and Ginny made awed noises and clapped.

"Are you sure you're not a witch, Mrs. Granger?" the girl asked, sending Hermione a wink.

"Oh, I don't need magic. Hermione has told us so much about the people she meets at school." Hermione noticed her mother didn't say the word 'friend,' and in a panic she tried to remember what she may have told her parents about Malfoy. Did she tell them about the time she punched him? Or about his attitudes toward muggle-borns?

Oh, Merlin.

"There can't be too many blond, pointy, gray eyed wizards your age, can there be?" her mother continued. "I told you I'm good at guessing."

"Pointy?" Draco asked, giving Hermione a bewildered look. She tried not to laugh as she looked back at him.

Her mother leaned in close to her, then, whispering in her ear, "Is this the new boyfriend you wouldn't tell us about?"

"Mother!" she exclaimed, shocked.

Her mother laughed, holding out a hand to Draco. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy," she said.

Hermione found it strange how no one in the room was saying a word, then. It seemed like they were putting on a play, and even Ginny stayed perfectly quiet as her eyes followed Mrs. Granger's hand.

Draco shook her hand, of course, continuing to affect a calm, slightly blank face while doing so. He didn't even wipe his hand off afterwards, which, honestly, Hermione had been half-expecting.

Her mother leaned into her, whispering again. Obviously, Draco could hear every word, so Hermione was mortified when her mother said. "A firm handshake- seems like an honest fellow. He's a keeper."

"Mother, it's not like that… er, Draco kinda helped me out of a bad situation the other day." She met Draco's eyes, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Hmm…" Her mother was clearly suspicious, so Hermione was glad when Ginny changed the subject.

"We had the Ministry place a few new protections around your family's house," she said meaningfully. "We told your parents about our worries concerning the new Death Eater activity…"

"Oh, I'm glad!" Hermione said, trying not to sound too personally invested. She wanted her parents to know that there was danger, but she didn't want them to know she had been in the middle of it last night.

Her father looked at his watch. "We're glad to see you're doing alright, pumpkin, and now that these, er, spells are finished being placed on our house, I think we'd better head out. I have a four o'clock waiting for me at the office!"

Hermione smiled, giving her dad a hug. "I'll come see you two next weekend, okay?"

They nodded, and after exchanging good-bye's, Mr. Weasley apparated the two back to their house, leaving just Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Hermione, and Draco alone in the room.

"I'll go get you kids some snacks and tea," Mrs. Weasley said, heading off to the kitchen hurriedly. They heard her banging around various pot and pans, busily working to make her guests food.

Ginny grinned. "Well, don't just stand there looking stupid," she said, her comment aimed at them both. "Have a seat!"

"I don't think I need to stay…" Draco mumbled, looking longingly towards the door. "I wanted to make sure she got here safe, and now that I'm finished being scrutinized by various muggles and Weasleys, I think it's time I go."

Ginny grabbed his arm, pulling him towards the couch. "Nonsense. You're staying, because I have questions."

The hairs on the back of Hermione's head stood up on end… literally, given their new shortness. "Ginny…" she warned as the girl made Draco sit on the couch, plopping down next to him.

Ginny waved her over, and with a sigh she sat in the spot on the other side of Draco. He wasn't trying to hide his displeasure anymore- his face was set fully into a frown at this point.

"Okay, just let me say my piece, and you're free to go," she said to Draco. "Harry told me all about last night…"

"Did he now?" Draco commented icily, his body rigid as he shot another look towards the door.

Ginny frowned. "Oh, don't get all prickly about the issue now- you didn't just save Hermione for your family honor or any crap like that. You saved her parents, too, something we would never have thought to look into if you hadn't mentioned it…"

"Why does everyone seem so surprised that I'm just as capable of saving someone's life as the rest of you lot?"

"Because you didn't just send us a message- you put _yourself_ in harm's way. Harry had his suspicions, but of course he couldn't actually ask you… so I need to ask you, because I really think you need to think about the answer. How do you _feel_ about... well, about Hermione?"

"Why do all of you insist on trying to get into my head?" Draco asked grumpily, tapping his fingers against his leg.

Hermione shook her head. "Ginny, you can't just butt into people's personal…"

"He doesn't have to tell _me_ anything! I just wanted to give him some food for thought. And you, too."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, but her face was deadly serious for once. "You two are already married, for Merlin's sake! Is it such a stretch that I suggest you both try to decide if you have feelings for each other? I just mean… don't go back to your separate spaces and ignore each other for the rest of your lives. Do something together that doesn't involve almost dying! Find a hobby! Go on an actual date! Give it a shot, for crying out loud!"

Hermione gulped, trying to hide her shock at her friend's bluntness. Her eyes slid back over to Draco, wondering how he would react, and found that he was looking at her in turn, his eyes searching her face. "I… suppose that's not _so_ crazy. Spending more time together…" she muttered.

Draco's face was a mask again, and he stood up very suddenly. "I can't… entertain this idea."

"What does _that_ mean?" Ginny asked, a little anger seeping into her voice. What a strange answer... but not unexpected.

Hermione just stared at the ground. She knew what he meant. He couldn't care for her- he wouldn't even consider it a possibility. And really, why would she be surprised? How could she think of _dating_ him, of giving them an actual chance? She couldn't fall in- _care for_- someone like him, someone who still looked at her and had the word "mudblood" at the back of his mind.

She saw it in his eyes, sometimes, even now.

Draco walked away, out the front door, and a moment later the two girls heard the "crack" of disapperation.


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: A lot of reviews today that I wish I could address! I'll try to answer a few. There are scenes I know a lot of people want to see, but some of them just don't fit into the story. There are a lot of things that are going to happen in the next few chapters, so please be patient with me! _

_Artemisgodess: The reference was to Kreatcher, leading Harry to the Ministry in book 5 and ultimately Sirius' death. And as for Ginny... the intention was that Hermione try not to argue with him and directly confront his prejudice, since that would only make him defensive. Ginny is, however, a big fan of the two of them being honest about their feelings, which would hopefully lead him to his own conclusions about blood status._

_Chester99: The hypothetical life debt refers to Harry saving Draco from the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement. However, there's no proof this debt actually exists in any magical capacity: Harry's just using it to try and force some guilt on Draco. It's a convenient excuse for Harry to understand why Draco saved Hermione, too, though he's still confused as hell._

_Hope that cleared up a few things! Look for my Christmas present tomorrow (Christmas morning for me)!_

**Chapter 20: The Quiet Saturdays  
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God, he hated Hermione's friends. What was Weasley playing at? Imagine, the two of them _dating_, like they were back at school and she were anything other than muggle-born.

Really, what kind of horrible luck did he have? Why did he care about what happened to this girl, whose negative traits he could list all day? Why couldn't she have been a half-blood, at least? Maybe a little less bossy, and a little more interested in not getting herself killed!?

Honestly, he couldn't believe how quickly she had brushed aside the events of last night. Draco was still shaken, still thinking about the moment when Carrow had demanded they all remove their masks…

He was sure he was going to die, then. He tried to put up a brave front, to stall for time, but he had no way of knowing when Potter would arrive, or if he even _would_. It had all been blind luck at the end there.

But Hermione was invisible, so even if he had died, there was still a slim chance she could escape. Somehow, this had mildly calmed him. He didn't want to die for no reason- but if he had done one good thing with his life, then maybe it had been worth it. He had made so many mistakes in the past... he thought, for a moment, that if he died there it might make up for half of them.

Those where his thoughts when he had a dozen wands trained on him, waiting for the order to kill.

He shook his head, turning back to his paperwork. The Ministry was in an uproar, what with the latest activity last night and the new batch of Death Eaters brought in for trial, and he had been asked to work at home today, organizing bank documents that would take him about a half hour. He wasn't sure why they didn't want him to come in- perhaps there were rumors about his involvement flying about, and the Goblin Liaison Office didn't need nosy Ministry workers poking in their heads to ask their intern questions every five minutes.

Suddenly, his mother appeared, not even bothering to knock as she burst into his study.

"Draco Cygnus Malfoy!" she yelled, stomping directly up to his desk, glaring down at him. Despite himself, Draco found he had sunk down in his seat several inches.

"Er… what can I help you with, mother?"

"You little fool! How _dare_ you!?" his mother growled, holding up a piece of parchment that was clearly a letter- Draco could not tell from whom. "How _dare_ you risk your life after all I've done to ensure your safety, time and time again? Do you not understand, still, that your life is worth more to me than any 'side' this family chooses to stand by? You wanted to play soldier, before, and now you want to play hero, all without considering how much you would _hurt me_…"

To Draco's utter horror, his mother started to cry, tears leaking down as she covered her face with her hands, the letter crumpling and growing damp… he was dragged back to sixth year, when she seemed to cry all the time at the drop of a hat, every time she saw his Dark Mark.

And back then, he hadn't cared. He had thought he was so much smarter than her. He was making his father proud, building up their family name in the ranks of Voldemort.

He had been an idiot. And now, once again, he had ended up making his mother cry.

"Mother, this was different…"

"Different!?" She screeched, coming around the desk. Draco stood up, unsure of himself. "That stupid little twat got _herself_ captured! From that moment on, she was no longer our responsibility! We gave her every protection we could offer! What more could we have possibly done? Her death would not have weighed on my conscience, that's for sure! But you… you made a personal vendetta out of it!"

"I think maybe you're being a little dramat-"

"Oh, the Ministry would have blamed us, of course. But who cares? It wasn't worth the risk to your life! You almost _died_, Draco! I'd sooner rot in Azkaban with your father than lose you!" She was still crying, and Draco wanted nothing more than to find out how to make her stop.

"Mother, I'm fine… really, look at me. Not a scratch," he tried, gripping his mother's shoulders and turning her towards him. She slapped his hands away angrily.

"She's not worth it, Draco. I know you feel a certain… sympathy for her, and I'm glad you've grown to be such a kind hearted soul, really I am. But she's just… she's just a dirty, mudblood girl, you know that, right? Don't start thinking of her as a proper Witch."

Draco was overwhelmed by two very contradictory feelings- his heart was breaking over the pain he put his mother through… and he was suddenly flushed with anger at the very same woman, his hands gripped into fists. "Don't call her that," he said, not even thinking about his words before they slipped out.

All at once, it was like a thought that had always been there, hidden behind all the lies he had been told his whole life, was illuminated. As the words slipped from his mouth, his brain tried to register them and could only come to one conclusion. It was so simple, so obvious... even if blood status mattered, even if it made a difference in temperament, magical ability, and pride, it didn't affect a human being's _worth_.

The differences, if they existed, didn't fucking matter_. At all_.

His mother wiped at her face, her red eyes meeting his. "Draco…" she started warningly.

"No. No more. I'm sick of hearing that word. I'm sick of basing my life around that word. Let me tell you, mother… last night, I saw plenty of her blood. Pints of it, in fact. It didn't look any different from my own, that time I was injured at Hogwarts," he said, referring to Harry's slashing he had received sixth year. "I've been so tired of all the hate, all the pain, since well before this war was over. But I didn't realize until now that the war isn't really over. It's this line of thinking that makes men like Carrow think he can murder whoever he likes… and _enjoy_ it, even."

His mother shook her head. "It's not a matter of _hate_, Draco. Look at me!" She stared at him, her eyes intense behind her tears. "It's a matter of pride. Tradition. It's about keeping what's left of the real Wizarding world intact- there are so few of us left, my dear sweet son. If we all turn to half-blood and muggle-borns, what will remain of _our_ way of life?"

Draco just shook his head, taking a step back. "Our way of life was circumspect when we all bowed down to a murdering madman." He felt so stupid, so foolish for not seeing everything this clearly before. Why had he over-complicated his life, believing the lies? To sooth his own arrogance? Why had he wasted so many years on blind hate? "If a person can be less than human because of their birth, then it justifies everything terrible the Dark Lord did. Everything terrible I did. But it's a lie. Her life is worth the same as mine." He hadn't meant to say that out loud, either, but he did. It shocked his mother silent, anyways.

He had allowed his view of her to be tarnished by a blind belief that he was inherently better than her. But to risk his life to save her... it shattered that fantasy. He couldn't believe it anymore, because he didn't regret his decision to do so in the least.

He was disgusted with himself.

He hugged his mother, then, despite all the anger he was feeling… it wasn't directed at her, not really. She broke down again, crying as she hugged him back, their argument forgotten.

...

Hermione turned on her radio, listening to music as she worked to finish up a potion she had let sit for the past couple weeks to stew. She had her hair clipped up and out of her face- to her intense displeasure, she found she wasn't able to grow back her hair instantly. Carrow had chopped it off with a magic blade- she would have to let it grow naturally. At least Ginny had helped her even it out, but it was still a puffy mess. Her hair approached scary levels of height when it was this short, sticking up at odd angles…

Hence, the clips and pins and layers of product in her hair.

She sighed, stirring counter-clockwise. The potions room was well-stocked with both pre-made potions and ingredients, but she had noticed a few holes remaining in their stores. She was trying to fill those holes, still, but some potions took more time than others. Veratiserum, for example, was missing from the collection. She had a feeling any stores had been confiscated during a Ministry raid.

However, there was nothing illegal about _owning_ the potion, as long as you didn't use it against someone's will. Hermione knew the potion was very difficult, and more for the challenge than anything else, she was hard at work brewing it. It would still take a couple more weeks to mature.

Hermione noticed that there were love potions on the shelf, but the spot where a fertility potion would have sat in alphabetical order was empty. She didn't bother to brew one to fill the spot.

She hadn't seen Draco for a week. She had been very busy, herself. Her first day at her internship had been an eye-opener.

When given a small test of her skills, she was asked to cast the final Charm on a Snitch to help it with its escape maneuverability. She had read all about it in her books- the trick was to carefully integrate the spells for avoidance of human hands with the magical metal's mixed-in internal balance potions. In addition, all Charms placed on Snitches, in particular, had to have connections to back-up magical sources as cited in Kneedler's Theorem of Extraneous Post-Mortem Charms. Even if the caster died, the Snitch would still be functional, and that was very important in an art form where most of the experts were aging old Wizards.

Metal Charming was something that held a passing interest for many Wizards, particularly those who loved Quidditch and wanted to know how to make Snitches, or those who wanted to start a business in Charmed objects. But few stuck through it all to become experts in each step of development, and even fewer learned how to make the vast number of projects Hermione saw in the small brick building that was "Wright's Baubles: Metal Charming Manufacturers Inc."

The Snitch she had worked on had inexplicably imploded on itself, its delicate wings folding in as the little ball fell flat. She had stared down, horrified, but Mr. Wright had simple chuckled, along with the three old men working in the room. The place had wood benches and tables for working, every space crammed with various equipment and projects.

"That's what always happens the first time someone actually practices on a real Snitch-in-progress. At least you made it a whole…" the gray-haired genius pulled a watch on a chain from his pocked. "…thirty-three seconds before meltdown. Quite impressive, really. Your technique is impeccable- crisp, clean, with perfect pronunciation. However, you're wand work is a bit rigid… we'll practice more after we build you up with something a little simpler. Come along."

She had learned a lot in the past week. Her name had appeared in the Prophet after Saturday's mess, of course, but Mr. Wright hadn't even batted an eye or bothered to mention the incident when she arrived. She got the impression that the Head Metal Charmer didn't get out very much.

One of her many jobs in her new position was organization. It had been a very, very long time since anyone had bothered to categorize their work-order contracts, or clean up the workshop. It had been her suggestion, actually, and she had found her hands full with the job. She just… couldn't see how any work got done in such chaotic conditions.

She really was learning a lot on the job, though, so she was happy. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be a Metal Charmer full time after her internship was over… it would depend on how things went. She still had her dream of working in the Ministry, and she supposed she could try applying if she could find an open position that interested her.

She wondered how Draco was doing at the Ministry. He was probably busy too, she knew. But even if he wasn't… would he bother to talk to her? Or were they back to the original plan of ignoring each other, afterall?

What did _she_ want?

She sighed, moving on to the next cauldron where she began preparing a calming drought. She wanted to know why he had kissed her, after he had saved her. It had been so soft, so different… there was more in that kiss than he had ever said in his words… unless she had imagined the whole thing. It was a distinct possibility, though why she would imagine something like _that_ was beyond her.

But still, the memory of it nagged at her, and she wondered how Ginny had seemed to know, all along, that there was more to Draco than met the eye. She would never have believed it before moving into this monstrous house, but he had shown her several surprising sides to his personality. He stood up for her, protected her, respected her wishes when she made them clearly known, and hadn't once purposefully made her feel unwelcome in this house. He was secretly a good man, she knew, despite his constant efforts to maintain his stuck-up image. But all these things considered, it still didn't mean they could become a legitimate couple- Ginny was clearly crazy to even suggest such a thing. Any kind of relationship between them- even friendship- just didn't seem to be in the cards.

Not by any stretch of the imagination. Not if he didn't truly think of her as his equal.

"Whoa… Veratiserum?" a voice asked from behind her, by the door. She jumped a little, but didn't turn around… it was Draco.

"What are you doing over here?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Sorry. Just… wanted some sleeping drought."

Hermione frowned, looking up at the clock on the wall. "It's not even six yet, Draco."

He was silent for a long moment, and Hermione finally gave up and turned around to face him. He was watching her with his sharp grey eyes, leaning against the door frame. He looked a little... frazzled. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about his body language and the strangely unkempt quality of his hair seemed very un-Draco, and she could buy that he hadn't slept well. He blinked, looking around the room. "You refilled the potion shelves…"

She shrugged. "It's become something of a hobby." She walked over to the shelf, reaching up on her toes to grab a sleeping drought. She frowned, looking down at the bottle. "You know, this stuff can be addicting. If you're still having trouble sleeping after a week, try using a calming drought instead." She indicated the cauldron she had been standing next to. "I'm brewing a fresh batch now, anyways."

Draco shook his head as she held out the small blue bottle. "I don't need it. I'm not having trouble sleeping."

Hermione frowned, placing the bottle on the table next to her. "But you just said…"

"I lied. I do that, you know."

She stared, her brow knitting together as she tried to make sense of his visit.

"You asked me why I came, and I panicked. I thought you might throw me out again. Are you going to?"

She continued to grow more confused. "I'm... why are you here, then?"

He shrugged, taking a step into the room and looking into the cauldron she had been working at. "You sliced the mugwort, instead of crushing it."

"Yeah… I've been reading some new theoretical Potions books. I'm rubbish at making such changes on my own, but I'm always willing to try and replicate the newest techniques I read about."

Draco nodded, tapping his fingers on the counter in a slow, random pattern. "So… do you need any help?"

She narrowed her eyes, gazing into his face as if expecting to find deceit, or humor… but he was serious. That's why he came? To see if she needed _help_?

How should she respond to that? Did she want him there with her, brewing potions and confusing her thoughts and emotions?

She finally smiled. "I'd love some help, actually," she said, handing him a jar of slug-paste. "There's still a few blank spots on the shelves to contend with, and you can never have too many calming droughts on hand.

His own smile came slowly, just a tug at the corner of his mouth. He seemed nervous, perhaps as nervous as she felt.

But the two didn't spend their time talking about the strange issues that had been growing between them, and they didn't talk about what happened at the Nott estate. They just talked about Potions, and it wasn't long before Hermione found herself back in her potion-making zone, listening to her music and following the directions in her books methodically, the process soothing her. She found the presence of another person, quietly shredding boomslang skin, to be soothing in a way, too.

For once, she didn't feel like the Mansion was quite so cold or lonely.

...

Draco Malfoy hated his internship. It seemed the only thing they ever had him do was file paperwork, and go on coffee runs. True, there were a few choice meetings between Ministry workers and Gringott's top bankers he was allowed to attend, but he was always advised to just stand back, watch, and answer any questions directed at him with one word answers.

It was embarrassing. He wanted to be _doing_ something, something where he could demonstrate the confidence and decision making skills he had been ensured as a child were necessary for work in the ministry.

He held on, even though he felt like his time and abilities were wasted. He knew it was only a matter of time before a position within the Ministry opened, and his experience in the Goblin Liaison office would look nice on his resume- he couldn't just rely on his family name to obtain a position. If anything, it would be a mark against him…

Then again, there had been an article in the Prophet that had made a rather big deal out of Hermione's rescue. It focused on Potter, of course, but it was mentioned that he, Draco Malfoy, had risked much to help his famous wife. They had painted quite the picture of Draco as a loving, reformed blood purist who would do anything to save his muggle-born wife. And from the beginning, wasn't that the plan? The whole reason he had agreed to his plea bargain? To change his family's reputation, and to appease the Ministry with a fantastic story of unity in difficult times?

In a way, he supposed they weren't wrong- he really did feel like a changed man, and her presence in his life no doubt pushed him to come to his powerful conclusion about blood status. Not that it didn't matter... just that it _didn't matter_. Ugh. His brain was still full of contradictions.

And yes, he would do almost anything to protect his wife… that had already been established, though when said out loud it sounded completely insane.

Two and a half years ago, he hated her. One and a half years ago, he watched her tortured in front of him and did nothing to help. That wasn't the first nightmare he had in those days, but it was certainly a frequent one in the months following.

Last summer he agreed to marry her, still hoping she might choose someone else.

A few months ago they were at a soft truce- but they still didn't _like_ each other.

And now? Where in the hell were they now? There was definitely an attraction between them... but then, neither of them had many options in that department, anyways, so you would never call them a "couple."

It didn't exactly feel right to pronounce it the dramatic love story that the Prophet romanticized it to be. He felt uncomfortable with the whole idea… he saved her because it was _right_. He cared about her because she was a good person. But love… that was too strong of a word, he was sure. He didn't love her, though that was probably what most people would think about the whole situation. That smug-faced Weasley girl... and that odd look Potter had given him...

So he had kissed her. So what? He had been glad to be alive, that's all- why over-analyze?

Damn. He still didn't really know _how_ he felt about the woman he had once had to take a _love potion_ to sleep with.

However, on the weekends, he always found time to stop by and make Potions with her. After a while, the two began to research different potions than what they had made in their classes, too, pouring over the Potions section of the Malfoy library. It was interesting, watching how excited she would get about her research, hurrying over to show him pictures and read him passages she thought were interesting. As she got used to his presence, it happened more and more frequently, and she would ask his opinions about small things, like which recipe they should try, the "Potion Crossroads" version, or the one found in "Advanced Brewing Techniques of the New Millenium."

His week was a stressful mess, but he found he rather liked his weekends.

"Hermione," he asked, stirring one of their long-brewing potions counterclockwise. Doing so once a week helped extend the shelf life… or so said "Advanced Brewing Techniques of the New Millenium." They thought they'd give it a try. "Did you, uh… see my mother's letter?"

Hermione rolled her eyes so far he thought they would get stuck in the back of her skull. "Yes," she said, sounding amused. "She wants me to go to her Charity Ball. Said there could be reporters there..."

"Yeah… well, you know my mother. The _one_ good thing about raising funds for war orphans is that it makes nice headlines in the Prophet," Draco said, and for a brief moment Hermione looked like she was going to snap at him. Her eyes softened quickly, though, when she realized he was being sarcastic.

"Well, why do you bring it up?"

He cleared his throat. He thought it was rather obvious. "It's going to be held here at the Manor, and it'll look pretty bad if you don't go…"

She shrugged. "I don't particularly care about making your mother look bad," she answered, measuring out her Wombat jelly carefully on a spoon. She paused,then jolted upright, looking as if something had hit her. "Unless… _you_ want me to go?" she tried.

Draco faltered. How was he supposed to answer that? "My mother asked me to talk to you…" he started, and Hermione turned hurriedly back to her work, a frown on her face. He could tell she was miffed at his answer. "...but, you know… I _have_ to go, and it promises to be incredibly boring. So… yeah, I want you to go."

She placed the spoon on the table very carefully, turning to face him with her lips in a tight line. "Why?" she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Uh…" What did she want from him!? "…because… you seem to have a way of making dinner parties entertaining by pissing mother off?"

He wasn't sure, at first, if this was what she was fishing for. She didn't look too sure, either, until she suddenly started to laugh, a hand to her face as she leaned on the table. "Oh, Draco…" she said, shaking her head. "I would love to go with you, to a fancy ball, in order to piss your mother off. How can I say no to such an eloquent request?"

He smiled back at her, playing along, leaning on the table towards her. "You know what would really piss her off? If we seemed to _actually_ have a good time, too. She already thinks you've turned me against her- let's try to make it seem as if we actually _get along_."

The very fact that this was directed as a joke showed how things had changed. Draco felt more comfortable around her lately, their time on the weekends making them seem more like friends than just allies. One would think that saving her life would have had the biggest effect on their relationship, but these quiet afternoons seemed much more precious, much more important than that one, horrifically bonding experience.

"Oh, what would that be like, getting along with a git like _you_?" she joked back, smacking his arm lightly. Her hand lingered for just a little longer than it needed to, and she withdrew it slowly, looking back down at her potion with a little smile.

Was she flirting? She _seemed_ to be flirting, but maybe it wasn't intentional?

Draco knew better now than to push it. Hermione didn't want to be involved with him romantically… did she? Or was he getting it all wrong? What she didn't want was to sleep with him just because the two of them had no _choice_. He had seriously misjudged her character before, when the two of them had kissed after that intense duel, but he had wanted her so badly, then… That hadn't changed, not really. He still found himself incredibly turned on when she bent over a book, her muggle shirts showing just a little cleavage… the smooth curve of her body when she reached to grab a potion off a high shelf...

Ugh. After everything they had been through, he cared about her. He did care. About more than just her body and the chance that he'd never have sex again, that is. He liked the companionship between them... If he pushed her, he could lose these calm Saturdays, and he didn't want to risk it.

She had turned down casual sex. That didn't mean that she would turn down a…

"A date," he said suddenly, making her head jerk up, alarmed. She fumbled, dropping her jar of jelly and cursed, looking down at the mess.

"What, Draco?" she asked, making the broken jar fly back up and repair itself with a wave of her wand.

"You wanted to know why I wanted you to go with me, and I just wanted to make it clear what this is. A date."

Her mouth formed the most perfect little "o."

The room was very quiet, and he was a little worried she wouldn't answer him. Had he misread things? Had he just seriously embarrassed himself?

"Draco…" she said quietly, softly, and a shiver run up his spine as her soft chocolate eyes looked up and met his. She reached back across the table, her hand sliding over his… he hadn't realized before how small her hands were. The white outline of the scar bisecting her left hand stood out sharply against her skin, but her skin still felt very soft. "…thank you, for being clear. And yes, I'd like it very much for this to be a… a date."


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: So, lots of stuff coming up in the next couple chapters here... and you get to read it! Yeah: TRIPLE upload for Christmas! Lemme know whatcha think!_

**Chapter 21: The First Date**

Hermione hunted through her closet. Formal. This thing was formal.

She felt as though she were preparing for the Yule ball, wondering how to fix her hair and what to wear… but this was not a school ball with her peers. This was a formal event full of rich people who wanted to pretend they cared, people who would either turn their noses up at her blood status or try to befriend her because of her fame.

And she was going to this ball with the one person she could never have even imagined _getting along_ with, let alone going on a... a _date_ with.

She had a moment of imagining herself in fourth year, telling Harry and Ron that she was going to the Yule Ball with Draco Malfoy. The very idea made her laugh out loud.

She tried on the pale blue gown she had worn to dinner with Narcissa before. No. It made her look like a little girl, somehow. It didn't fit her personality, or her current mood.

She pulled out a black number with long sleeves and a lace collar and shuddered. It looked like something Bellatrix would wear. She dropped that one to the ground, kicking it under her bed, blanching.

The red gown Ginny had borrowed was a little too sexy, somehow… she supposed she could raise up the collar, but then the dress wouldn't look right…

She considered her wardrobe again, a pile of fabric covering her bed as she pulled out one dress at a time and discarded them. They were all obviously expensive, but they just didn't seem right.

Then she saw it. It was a bright orange silk dress with tight sleeves and a cape attached at two small points at the shoulders- like a regular dress-robe, but without the extra drag of fabric on the sleeves. When she tried it on, she found that the dress itself was off the shoulder, but with a neckline still high enough to be appropriate for a charity event. There was a belted sash around the middle in a deep teal color, the bright color combination making Hermione think of something Padma Patil had worn to the Yule ball. The design was very "Modern-India-Meets-Medieval-England," with delicate gold looping on the edges of the shirt and sleeves. She rather liked it for its uniqueness, though she did worry that the color washed her out a little. She was never that good with colors.

She smiled, setting the dress aside for tomorrow night. She grabbed her book off the table- she had finished with her internship work for the day. As Wright had said- "You're young, and it's a beautiful, sunny day outside. Don't you dare stay late again today."

Little did he know that she would spend her afternoon primarily reading anyways. She decided on a compromise- she set a sunscreen spell on her skin, changed into cool muggle clothes, and walked outside onto the patio in front of her sun-room.

She had had a little time to check out the back gardens, and had been using the plants as main ingredients in many of her potions. Some of the plants could be dangerous, but those were far back in the green house. She breathed deep, loving the smell of the fresh lavender on the wind.

She sat in a chair on the patio, using her wand to lean it back and extend the legs so she could enjoy the warmth of the sun as she read. She was glad she had a pair of sunglasses- there really were no spells that did what that simple muggle invention did with as much simplicity and comfort.

She sighed, sitting back. Unlike the sunglasses, magic worked much better as a sunblock. If she ended up falling asleep, she wouldn't have to worry about waking up crispy and red. _That_ would certainly clash with her orange dress robes…

She opened her book, reading about the magical inner workings of remembralls, plugging her headphones into the giant old magicked radio. It was fascinating, really, the connection to memory that was almost like a Charm mixed with Occlumency….

She was so engrossed in her book and music, she didn't even notice the figure standing near her until a shadow fell across her, blocking her sun. She looked up as he waved a hand in front of her face.

"Oh…" she said, smiling up at Draco as she dropped the large black headphones down to her neck. "I wasn't expecting you- you're a day early for Potions club," she joked.

"I just thought I'd come… find you… to ask about, ah…" He seemed a bit distracted. His eyes were wandering more than usual, and Hermione almost laughed when she figured out why.

"You've never seen shorts before, have you?"

"I- what?"

She raised one bare leg, crossing it over its partner casually. "It's summer. It's hot. Hence, shorts."

Draco seemed transfixed on her legs, now that she pointed it out, and she had to snap her fingers to bring him back to Earth. "I'm up here, Draco. What did you need to ask me?"

"Given the fact that I've just discovered 'shorts,' you can't expect me to remember that, can you?"

She stared at him, mouth agape, then giggled. "You're starting to develop quite the sense of humor, you know."

"I've always had a sense of humor," he said, sniffing indignantly. "I just use it less often. Keeps people off their guard."

"Well, that and your humor usually sprang from other's misfortune."

"Right now it comes from my own misfortune, because I'm pretty sure I can't talk you into wearing _those_ to the party tomorrow?"

She laughed again, putting her book down on the deck next to her lowered chair. "Draco…" she said, again, pointing to her face. With a visible effort, he tore his eyes away from her tight-clothed frame, blinking in the bright sun.

"What's on your face?"

"Sunglasses."

"Oh. I don't like those as much as the shorts. Anyways… I was wondering if you wanted to invite anyone to the ball? I didn't think of it earlier, but I'm sure you'd be more… comfortable with someone you know there, too."

She moved her sunglasses up to the top of her head, looking at his robed figure silhouetted in the hot sun. Even squinting, she could see in his eyes that he was being honest. It was a real question.

"I know _you_, Draco. It's not like on our wedding day… oh, how odd that sentence sounds out loud." She sighed, shaking her head. "But I do appreciate it. I'm going to invite Harry and Ginny."

Draco groaned, but who did he _expect_ her to invite, anyways?

"Draco, I promise I'll make sure Ginny doesn't try to grill you again. Lately, that just seems to be her thing…" It occurred to Hermione, that in order to invite the couple she would have to tell them about her legitimate date with her husband. Ginny would be excited to the point of a stroke at being right, and Harry would probably be shocked into a heart attack.

Maybe she would just send them a nice, impersonal letter to invite them, and just let them freak out on their own when they arrived.

...

Hermione wasn't sure if she was meant to head to the ball directly, since it was in her home, or if she was supposed to wait for Draco to come escort her, since he was her date. Their situation was too strange for regular protocol, leaving Hermione confused. She decided to walk down on her own- maybe she'd meet Draco halfway, and be right on both terms.

As she walked, she passed a mirror, and with a strange backwards scoot she made it back to it, checking out her image.

"Your hair is awful," the mirror informed her in a short, quipping voice. "And the dress makes you look fat."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. What was this, a low self-esteem mirror, or another muggle-born hating artifact?

"I'll give you the first count, but I happen to like the dress," Hermione answered, and with a huff hurried on.

She had used an exorbitant amount of magical product in her hair to bend it to her will, but she still didn't like it short. It framed her head in a way that seemed to make her face look more round, and her frizzy locks were much harder to keep down. She had settled, in the end, with a decorative pearl headband to try and keep her hair from standing up, and coupled with the hair products it seemed that everything was under control.

She found her way to the entrance hall, where Narcissa Malfoy was greeting guests after a witch in black and white servant's robes took their cloaks and checked their invitations. Hermione tried her best to squeeze by unseen, into the large open double doors where she could see the ballroom waiting.

She had no luck in her feat, however.

"Ah! Hermione!" Narcissa said, all smiles and warmth with so many guests around her. "Madam Chang!" Narcissa Malfoy called, putting an arm around Hermione and leading her off into the ballroom after a woman whose resemblance to Cho Chang was uncanny. "Have I introduced you to my daughter-in-law yet?"

Madam Chang smiled back, turning around to greet them. "I don't believe we've met, but I do know you went to school with my daughter, Cho." She reached out a hand, and Hermione shook it happily.

"Oh, yes, I'd say Cho and I were rather close… on and off. She's as much a hero in the war as any of us who returned for the Battle of Hogwarts," Hermione said, happy that Narcissa had managed to find an influential witch who wasn't a complete snob to show her off to.

"Yes, well… I am quite proud of her tenacity, though I must say it was all very alarming. I never wanted her to get involved in all of that mess at school... what was it called? Oh! Dumbledore's Army!" She laughed lightly like it was a joke, sharing an affirming look with Narcissa."Putting dangerous thoughts in her head. I'm just glad her bad decisions didn't get her killed last year!"

Or maybe not.

"Well… sometimes we have to do what we know is right, even if it's dangerous," Hermione said, trying to remain pleasant and upbeat in her tone. She wasn't sure if she succeeded or not, as Mrs. Malfoy steered her in another direction, towards another crowd of Wizards and Witches.

"This is Mr. Malcolm McGonagall," an old man with shining blue eyes nodded, "Mrs. Henrietta Bones," another parent of a schoolmate. The women was looking decidedly uncomfortable in Narcissa's presence- Hermione knew that the Bones family had lost a lot in the war. She nodded at the women solemnly, "and long-time family friends Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson," Narcissa declared, giving the pinch-faced pale little woman a hug and kisses on both cheeks.

"This," Narcissa said, "is my daughter-in-law, Hermione."

The small group greeted her in varying ranges of excitement, the Parkinson's seeming to be the least enthused. Mrs. Parkinson leaned in and whispered something to Narcissa, to which she nodded. "Can you excuse my rudeness, dear? I need to have a word with my friend."

The two walked away, leaving Hermione with three people who she didn't really know. But at least none of them were Death Eaters so... that was a plus.

"Mr. McGonagall, is your sister Minerva?" Hermione tried, politely attempting conversation.

He nodded cheerfully. "She wasn't able to make it tonight- but she has plenty of good things to say about you, Ms. Hermione Granger! Is it true you graduated top of your class?"

She nodded, embarrassed. She decided not to correct the man on her surname, since it was kind of nice hearing "Granger" again.

"Indeed?" Mr. Parkinson asked. His voice was cold and distant, and something in his mannerisms made it clear that he disapproved, somehow. Hermione believed in first impressions, and the Parkinsons were clearly very much like their daughter. Or rather, the other way around. Neither had seemed particularly pleased to meet Hermione… and the feeling was mutual.

"Yes, though I always had a preference for Charms. I'm apprenticing with a well-known Metal Charmer right now, though it is proving to be a challenge. I'm learning many new things, so I enjoy it."

"Well… _dirtier_ jobs like Metal Charming are just made for some people." Mr. Parkinson said, his lip twitching slightly.

He was definitely on the offensive, and it was true that a lot of people looked down on jobs that involved experimental magic. "True, Metal Charming involves a lot of hands-on magic. It's not as clean and _pure_ as an office position, but in the end it builds _good character_ and a _respect_ for higher learning." She thought she had been a little too obvious. Mrs. Bones raised an eyebrow, a smile of amusement on her face as her eyes traveled up to the tall dark-haired man.

Mr. Parkinson scoffed. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my wife," he said curtly, spinning on his heel and walking away.

Malcolm McGonagall started to laugh quietly, his body shaking with the efforts to maintain proper etiquette. "Oh… my dear… my sister was right about you. Sharp, but not afraid to speak your mind! Those Parkinsons might not have been Death Eaters like the Malfoys, but they were a hair's breadth away. Prejudiced bastards- a smart girl like you must drive them all crazy!" Hermione smiled. So much for etiquette. If she didn't know better, she would think that Mr. McGonagall had been drinking long before the party started, his voice just a little too loud for his words to be kept to their little circle.

"I try my best," she answered.

...

Draco found her, making small talk with a growing circle of old Wizards and Witches, and hurried over to rescue her. Why hadn't she waited for him? He had shown up at her corridor, intending to escort her… maybe she didn't understand the whole "date" thing?

"Hello there," he said, breaking in on the conversation and making her do a double-take.

"Draco!" she said happily, her genuine smile breaking out and lighting up her face. She looked a little frazzled, and he got the impression that he was rescuing her from an uncomfortable conversation... or lack of conversation. She was surrounded by old people, no doubt dumped there by his mother.

"If you'll all excuse us," he said to the group, "we're going to go dance. This is a ball, afterall."

Mr. McGonagall (who's red face clearly signaled that the drink in his hand was not his first), grinned, looking between the two of them. Before Draco dragged her away, he said conspiratorially to Hermione, "Drive him crazy!," which just confused Draco.

He shook his head, offering his arm to Hermione, who tentatively took it. "What was that?" he muttered.

"I told off Mr. Parkinson…er, I think. Mr. McGonagall told me I must drive all the 'prejudiced bastards' crazy."

Draco snorted. "Then I guess I should be insulted."

"You should be." Hermione answered, and he looked down at her, startled. But she was still wearing that peaceful smile. "If you're still a prejudiced bastard, that is."

She said it like it was a casual joke, but she was flashing him a strange, meaningful gaze that seemed to be begging for a real response.

What kind of heavy conversation was she trying to casually bring up at _a dance_? Her eyes looked a little unsure, now, as she looked up at him, waiting for him to say something back.

"Now? You want to do this _now_?" he whispered, and her smile drooped.

He sighed, changing course for a less-crowded area of the room. At least he wouldn't have to dance- he hated dancing, despite having taken lessons at a young age. When they were relatively alone he dropped his arm, turning to face her. "Hermione…"

"I shouldn't have brought it up… not now. I should have brought it up when you asked me to go with you. I don't know… it's just nagging at me, wondering how you see me. You've been such a different person since you saved my life, and I like the person you are… but what does that really _mean_?" her eyes were guarded, and kept flicking down to the floor as she spoke. Draco shook his head.

"Why do you have to turn this into a big dramatic thing? I asked you here because I like you. I made that perfectly clear, didn't I? By calling this a date?"

Hermione squinted at him as if trying to see something hidden from everyone else in the room. She was trying to understand his words, but he didn't know how to make himself more clear.

"I wouldn't like you, Hermione, if I didn't respect you."

It seemed like he had finally broken through to her, and all her doubts looked to vanish like smoke, her body language less rigid and her face relaxed and happy. Was that really all it took to make her happy? To make her like him? Respect?

She was the brightest witch of their age, she should already have known how amazing she was. How could he have had all the facts, and never been able to put them together before? How had his hate of muggle-borns blinded him to the incontrovertible truth standing in front of him? She was amazing on so many levels, and he could only feel ashamed that it had taken him so long to figure that out. He was an idiot.

She raised up on her toes, her arms wrapping around his neck… and she kissed him. It was very short- they were in a room full of people, afterall- but it was very, very sweet. It occurred to him that she had never initiated a kiss between them before, and he found himself grinning uncontrollably when she took his arm, leading him to the dance floor.

...

Harry was looking decidedly uncomfortable in his dress robes, though Ginny found him very irresistible in them. She hadn't seen him in such nice sleek clothes since the Yule ball, and she hadn't been the one on his arm, then. Their wedding had been a small, rushed thing in their school uniforms at the Ministry. Ginny wondered if they should have a proper wedding, now that they were well and truly safe from the Marriage Law and their relationship was out in the open…

The room they entered was filled with many familiar faces- in some cases a good thing, in others not. For example, Ginny saw her fair share of Ministry employees and old Wizarding family heads, and some of them she knew were very stuffy or downright rude.

Then there were the obvious, like Pansy Parkinson, standing quietly in the corner with her nose wrinkled as she scanned the room with her narrowed eyes. She was someone to avoid for the night.

"Remind me why I let you talk me into coming?" Harry asked, pulling at his tie.

"Because Hermione asked us to. What's wrong, you went to her wedding, and that sounded like a much worse affair than this."

Harry frowned, looking about the large brightly lit ballroom. "It was a nightmare, but that had nothing to do with the guests… I'd never seen her look so lost before." He grimaced at the memory. "If she needs us here, too, then I suppose we have to be here…"

"Oh, I don't think she's getting along too badly," Ginny said with a grin, nodding towards the dance floor. She laughed when she saw Harry's brows raise up and his eyes grow wide.

"What, does he have a wand pointed at her under that sleeve?" Harry asked, shaking his head disbelievingly.

"She looks pretty happy to me. I'd say they hit it off."

Harry scoffed at her, looking down. "Just because he saved her life, doesn't mean he's any less of an arrogant prat. She wouldn't give him the time of day."

"Oh, I don't know about that…"

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why? What do you know?"

Ginny grinned, trying to look perfectly innocent and failing miserably. "Nothing. I mean, it's not like I poked my nose into someone else's business and gave a little push now and then. Does that sound like me?"

"_Push_? What is wrong with you!?"

"Aw, I think they make a cute couple…"

"Couple!? They make a horrific couple! Have you been imperiused!?"

Ginny pouted, looking up at her husband. "We both want Hermione to be happy… besides, you said Draco was acting weird after the Aurors arrived at the Nott Estate. You thought you saw him kiss her…"

"I've rethought it, and decided that I only said that because I was so tired."

"Mmm, hmm," Ginny answered, not believing him. From what she had heard, she had some strong suspicions that everything really would work out okay for Hermione in the end. Hermione wanted so bad to find true love- she wasn't childish for wanting that. It was natural. And in Ginny's mind, even from the beginning it was perfectly possible for that person to be Draco Malfoy. He wasn't irredeemable. He had plenty of good qualities, and she had been trying to point those out to her friend for the past two months.

Seemed like they had finally figured out a few things on their own, too.

The song ended, and Hermione and Draco disappeared into the crowd along the edge on the other side. "Let's go find them!" Ginny said giddily, pulling on Harry's hand.

The two broke through the crowd, slowed down by guests wanting to greet Harry. By the time they had made it across the hall to Hermione, they saw that someone else had caught up to them just a moment earlier.

Narcissa Malfoy. When she saw Ginny and Harry approach the older woman looked… relieved?

"Oh, good," she said, smiling a big, fake smile. Ginny could tell it was fake, but she could also tell that there was an odd… nervousness, behind it. "Hermione, I'm sure you could spare Draco for a few moments and catch up with your friends?" she said, nodding at Harry.

Hermione glanced at Draco and muttered, "Alright…," but she didn't seem happy about it.

Draco, for his part, shook his head and shrugged, indicating he didn't know what this was about either, and followed his mother as she cut a path through the crowd.

"That was weird…" Hermione muttered, following the pair until she couldn't see them anymore.

"Weirder than usual?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "I'd think Narcissa and Draco acting shifty would be an everyday occurrence."

Ginny elbowed him. "Hermione, your dress-robes are fabulous!" she gushed, hugging the girl.

"I'm glad you think so." Hermione answered, smiling. "I passed a fashion critic mirror who thought otherwise."

"Your hair…" Harry muttered, pointing to his own head.

Hermione shrugged. "Magic blade. I can't do a thing about it but let it grow. Is it as horrible as I think it is?"

"It's, uh, different," Harry tried, and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Smooth, Harry. Real smooth." Ginny turned to Hermione. "It's not that bad- It'll grow out soon enough!"

Hermione nodded, looking distractedly over her shoulder.

Ginny leaned in close. "Everything going better than expected?" she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Hermione swatted at her friends shoulder as if driving her back, laughing. "You make it sound like this was some master plan of yours, and not just dumb luck." She shook her head, looking around for him again. "He's seemed… different, since the Nott Estate. No, since after that, actually, when you hounded him enough he left the Burrow. I didn't see him for a week, and then suddenly he seemed a lot more… open, I guess. We make Potions together, now."

Ginny affected a mildly disappointed frown. "That's it? Potions?"

"Yep."

"Sometimes you are _so_ boring," Ginny informed her, sticking out her tongue.

Harry gave her a wide-eyed look of disapproval, shaking his head. "Boring? What exactly were you expecting her to say, Ginny? Something that would probably scar me for life, I expect?"

"Again?" she retorted, poking his forehead lightly with a good-natured little laugh.

Something about frustrating her husband always just made them seem to grow closer, and Ginny was happy when Harry smirked at her and sighed in mock-exasperation.

"So," Ginny said, joining in Hermione's search. "Just where did you mother-in-law drag your date?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22: The Real Question**

His mother was acting very peculiar. There was something in her rigid movements and tight-lipped smile that spoke of trouble, and as they broke off from the ball and walked down an empty hallway Draco started to grow pretty concerned himself.

"Mother…" he started, and she whirled on him, a finger to her lips.

Without a word, she cast a muffliato and breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Now we can talk. Draco, I need you to stick close to Hermione tonight…"

Draco blinked. He was feeling particularly irked at being dragged away from that very girl, and now her ironic words made him want to just roll his eyes and walk back to the party. Something about the seriousness in her face, though… he listened.

"I just had a disturbing conversation with Mrs. Parkinson." His mother's eyes wandered the hall over his shoulder, as if she expected someone to pop out of the shadows at any minute. "You know very well the kind of conversations one would have in the days when the Dark Lord was still secret… double meanings in every sentence. I feel as though… there was a veiled threat in some of the things she said to me tonight. Keep Hermione and her friends close until the end of the party, when we return all the security spells to their regular settings."

Draco listened with growing unease. "Do you think the Parkinsons are involved with the new… activity?" It was more than he could believe- hadn't Pansy herself told him her parents had warned her off Nott for that very reason?

Narcissa Malfoy shook her head distractedly. "I don't know Draco. I used to know everything about the old families… but times are still rocky, and you never know who might crack under pressure. It could be that the Parkinsons are being forced to do something they don't want… If Irena would have just been more direct with her speech… but maybe she was being watched?" She shook her head, disturbed. "I don't believe anyone would dare try any mischief in such a crowded place, but make sure you stick together just in case. Potter is an Auror now, I hear, and that Weasley girl is in training. If problems break out, I'd rather you be close to them."

Draco almost laughed, thinking of how backwards it all seemed… but his mother's face didn't make it possible for laughter to come. She was scared of whatever Pansy's mother had told her.

...

It had only been a couple of minutes, but Hermione still wondered what his mother could have said to put such a frown on Draco's face.

He leaned in close to her, completely ignoring Harry and Ginny, and she almost thought he meant to kiss her. She flushed, her eyes darting to Harry's shocked expression, but instead he turned to the side of her face, his breath soft against her skin. "We'll need to talk later. Stay close."

Hermione pulled away and looked up at him, her expression surely betraying her shock. Talk about what?

She felt herself grow oddly calm and focused as she realized that something must be wrong. His tone was too sharp, too serious. Her eyes scanned the room, as if she expected dark wizards to jump from the shadows of the domed ceiling.

Harry picked up on her mood instantly, tensing. She noticed he kept his hand close to the pocket where he tended to keep his wand.

"Well, this is going to be a fun party." Ginny said sarcastically.

Draco shook his head. "It's probably nothing. Let's just act normal."

"Oh. Then either way we're up for a boring time."

The four of them stayed together for the rest of the Ball, not even daring to dance. Hermione wasn't sure why the caution was needed, but she had a feeling she'd rather not find out. There were no instances of "the guys going for drinks" or any of the usual nonsense that separated couples at parties.

"So, what if I have to pee?" Ginny whispered in Hermione's ear, making her laugh out loud and get strange looks from the boys.

"Hold it," she informed the red-head, who crossed her arms and gave her an unhappy look.

"Draco," said a voice from the crowd, and a moment later they saw its owner push past a couple of old ladies in dated, but very well-tailored, robes.

It was Pansy Parkinson.

...

Draco almost gasped out loud, but managed to keep his emotions in check and his mouth shut.

Pansy looked like crap.

Maybe other people wouldn't have noticed, but he had known the girl for many years, and he could see the tell-tale signs of her tattered edges. Her usually perfect make-up looked rushed, her hair longer and flatter than she usually wore it, and it was obvious some quick cover-up spells had been used to hide the darkness under her eyes- the color didn't quite match. Her dress even looked as though she had chosen it in a rush- the big frumpy thing didn't suit her slim form, and wasn't quite up to a "formal" standard.

Again, nothing others would notice, but _he_ certainly did.

"Draco," she said again, and a disturbingly forced smile came to her mouth, her eyes remaining dull and dark. She reached out a hand and he took it… since when did they shake hands? They were friends, and they had seen each other only a month ago…

The he felt it. She had placed something covertly into his palm. He knew that when someone put in that much effort to slip something to you, you didn't call attention to it, so he quietly slipped what felt to be a small folded bit of paper into his pocket.

"I'm glad to see you're looking well." She said, and then wrinkled her nose in his three companion's direction. "Though you seem to have something gross attached to you."

Potter raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. Draco wondered if he wasn't the only one who noticed the quiver in her voice, and the unusual lack of force to her comment. She just didn't have it in her to dish anything out tonight.

"Yeah, well, I've been making all sorts of new friends. How about you, Pans? Any new friends?" He knew he was treading dangerous ground here, asking her so openly… but he had to know. Was his mother right? Were the Parkinsons Death Eaters, or did they have something to _fear_ from the Death Eaters?

Her eyes flashed, meeting his own heatedly. She gave him a very long, meaningful look. "My parents have made quite a few new _friends_ lately…" Her tone dropped dangerously low. "They've been very… difficult to live with these days."

Her eyes drifted to a spot just over his shoulder, and she froze like a prey animal. "I… I'll see you sometime Draco," she muttered, and backed up, nearly plowing into a serving girl with drinks in her hurry to leave them. She disappeared into the crowd, leaving Draco no time to even say good-bye.

Draco looked around, but didn't see anybody suspicious. Then again, he was hardly in-the-know anymore when it came to Death Eater activity. Anyone in the crowd could have caused the girl to flee.

The thought unnerved him.

Hermione put a hand on his arm, frowning, and he looked down at her. If there was someone threatening there tonight, was she in danger again?

"Draco," Hermione said softly, nodding towards his friend. "Wasn't Pansy married?"

He blinked. This wasn't the question he expected.

"Of course she was.," Ginny piped up. "Marriage Law and all…"

Draco thought about it, shuffling his feet. "She mentioned him at Hogwarts… some guy from a wealthy muggle family. She had… some good things to say about him."

"So then why isn't he _here_?" Hermione asked, and Draco realized she had a very good point. If only to keep up appearances, her parents would have coerced him into coming.

The party was winding down, now, and Draco figured it was late enough that it wouldn't be suspicious for them to make their escape… and putting distance between himself and whoever had scared Pansy would be a plus. "Hermione, I have an idea," he said with false enthusiasm. "How about if the four of us go to your parlor for drinks?"

Hermione nodded warily, looking to Harry. "I agree. That sounds great."

...

Only when they were all sitting in the small parlor together did Draco dare to pull the paper from his pocket.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, leaning close. She was sitting next to him on the sofa, and the movement pressed her thigh to his… given the current circumstance, this _should_ have escaped his notice, but it didn't.

"It's the note Parkinson passed him," Potter said matter-of-factly, and everyone looked at him. "What? I'm pretty good at noticing things like that…"

"What does it say?" Hermione asked as Draco opened the paper with shaky hands. What new hell would this letter bring?

_24 North Retting Way, Gardenstown, Aberdeenshire. I am secret-keeper. Next Wednesday morning. You may show your wife, then burn this._

Draco stared. It was not a hell of a lot to go on. Shaking his head, he handed the note wordlessly to Hermione, who sighed and raised her wand to the scrap of paper. In a flash, the paper was burnt to a small black crisp, floating to the ground.

Potter sighed. "I'm guessing you can't tell anyone what was on that," he said.

Hermione nodded. "It specified the two of us."

"Fidelius Charm?"

"Of course."

Potter's eyebrows came together as he thought, resting his head on his folded hands. "Why would she send you a location only the two of you could go to?"

"A trap?" Weasley tried, and Potter nodded.

"I didn't want to come out and say it, but that's what I think too."

Draco folded his arms, feeling frustrated. He had also been suspicious about the Parkinsons just earlier that night… but that _didn't_ include Pansy. He knew, now that he had spoken with her, that she was in some kind of trouble. He shook his head. "She needs my help."

"She did seem… scared," Hermione said in agreement, but then she added, "Which could mean that this is, indeed, a trap. Maybe she had no choice- I know she's your friend, Draco, but she could have been coerced into giving you that address."

Draco was silent, considering. He didn't want that to be true… but a smart Slytherin always weighed his options carefully. A wrong decision on this could be life or death.

"They already captured you before, Hermione…" Potter warned. "Though I don't know why they seem to be focused on you. Would they go through all this trouble for revenge?"

"I have my theories on that," Hermione said, standing up suddenly and grabbing a book she had hidden under the cushion of an easy chair. Draco narrowed his eyes… why would she hide a book?

"I thought you might," Potter said with a grin, obviously not as confused about her pack-rat hiding place as Draco was.

She held up the book, and he almost spilled the drink he had picked up off the coffee table. Brandy. He thought it was probably a good choice for this confusing night.

The book was an extremely dark tome, literally and figuratively. The cover was a worn black color with silver lettering. The material inside was notoriously vile, enough so that even his family, in their heyday, had never owned a copy of the rare book.

"_Secrets of the Darkest Art_?" he asked, his mouth gaping open at Hermione. "You… you've _read_ that!?"

She nodded, her face gone pale.

Draco looked over at her two friends, wondering what they would think of this very disturbing reading material, and saw that, predictably, Potter looked more shocked than he did. Well, at least there was that…

What he didn't expect was the almost violent reaction of the scarred hero. He jumped up quickly, reaching out a hand. "Dammit! Hermione, what were you thinking!? How is that even possible!? Hand it over!"

She shook her head and… smiled? What the hell?

Cautiously, Draco got to his feet… he was a little worried about all the things happening that he had no explanation for.

"Harry, hold on-" Hermione was saying, waving a hand in front of her. "It's not what you think…"

"We burned it, Hermione! I don't understand… did you make a copy beforehand? Why haven't you destroyed it yet!?"

Draco looked over at Weasley, and was happy to see that she was equally confused. She flashed him a dark look, and shook her head.

"But that's the part that's so wonderful about this Harry- _it's not the same book_!"

This, at least, made Potter pause.

Hermione put a hand on Potter's shoulder, shaking him a little. "You dolt- did you really think I would keep it? We all agreed it wasn't worth the risk to let it exist."

"Sometimes, Hermione, I have to wonder when it comes to you and books," he sighed, giving Hermione a sheepish grin as he plopped back down beside his wife heavily.

"Now, if you're all finished doubting me…"

"I didn't say a word," Draco reminded her, hoping she had missed his shock. He _still_ felt shocked, but since Potter had calmed down, he had to conclude that whatever part of this conversation he was missing must explain it.

"…right. Well, I wondered where the Death Eaters were getting their knowledge of… hold on," she said, pulling out her wand. She set a few spells around their little group, including muffliato. "There. Right. Horcruxes. I wondered why they thought the ceremony they were performing would create a Horcrux, so I started to do a little research. I've ordered some books by mail that, if I were anyone else, would raise alarms among the Aurors. As it was, I obtained special permission to do research on Dark Arts from the Ministry... it wasn't hard, with my reputation. And sure enough I tracked down this... thing." She was holding the book with some distaste between two fingers, shaking her head. "But the fact is that this is not the real '_Secrets of the Darkest Art_.'" She turned to Draco, "We used a real copy of that book to learn how to destroy Voldemort. We were fairly certain that it was the _only_ copy… or at the very least that it was rare."

This was news to Draco, but he was sure there were many things he didn't know about his wife's experiences during the war… just as there were many things she didn't know about his. He wanted to keep it that way, for the most part, but he was certainly curious about this "Horcrux" thing they kept mentioning.

Given their reactions last time he asked, and their vague answers, he guessed he wouldn't be able to get too much information on the subject, though.

"Well, Hermione continued, "when I found this one I was scared… but also confused. It wasn't hard to obtain, and the Death Eaters who captured me had no idea what they were doing, really…"

"They looked pretty sure of themselves to me," Draco answered darkly, and Hermione met his eyes, her own growing soft.

"Yeah. Well, they were pretty well-prepared for the 'killing me' part, but they had very poor advice on how to create an actual Horcrux…"

"So, to make this soul-breaking… thing… they _don't_ need to kill anybody?" Draco asked.

He was met with silence, and he knew that once again this line of questioning would be answered with avoidance.

"Well…" Hermione started. She flashed a look to Harry. "This will be very hard to explain if he doesn't know anything."

"He _shouldn't_ know anything," Harry responded, turning his gaze to Draco with a frown. "For his own good."

She sighed, making a strange face at him that seemed half apologetic, half unsure. "Fine. Well, in any case, their misinformation came from this easily bought, pathetically obvious, fake." She flipped the book open, and even from Draco's vantage point leaning against the arm of the sofa he could see a slew of nasty, bloody illustrations flash before his eyes. When she arrived at the proper page she stopped. She looked like she was about to show them as she talked, then thought better of it, pressing the open pages to her chest tightly. "It's, ah… well, whoever rewrote this book wanted two things: They didn't want anyone to know the secret of creating Horcuxes, and they wanted to get a lot of muggle-borns killed."

"Muggle-borns… specifically?" Harry asked, not sounding surprised, really… more like a student making sure they understood their Professor's meaning. Which was new for Harry.

She nodded. She looked a little shaken, now, as she went on. "It specifically calls for muggle-borns… the whole reason the Marriage Law worked was that there are roughly an equal number of pure-bloods and muggle-borns in the Wizarding world. In other words… muggle-borns _are_ rather rare. They want to get at me, simply because their options are limited. Plus, the added bonus that I know you," she added, nodding at Potter.

Draco's fist clenched against the chair back, his face set in a scowl. "And, though I'm sure none of you are going to fucking answer me, I assume this is not the actual case for this Horcrux-thing?"

Hermione's eye grew wide at his tone, and he instantly regretted it. He was feeling rather touchy about the fact that they didn't trust him… though of course, it was a given. Why _would_ they trust him?

However, the real thing darkening his mood was the detached way Hermione was referring to herself in regards to the book… she had almost been used as a damn sacrifice, and yet here she was, laying out facts calmly for everyone about her near-murder.

"No, Draco. A Horcrux is about being a killer. A person's soul isn't weighed different if the blood on your hands is muggle-born or not…"

"Hermione…" Harry said, warningly.

"Well, it's my secret too! Besides, I'm literally the only person left in the world who knows _how_ to make one- even you didn't read the book, Harry. And yet you're telling me who I'm allowed to give the most basic of information to?"

"We all agreed… it was _your_ idea to keep it secret!"

"Yes… yes, I know…" Hermione said, sadly. She looked very tired, all of a sudden, and sank back into the plush chair she had pulled the book out from under.

"You don't _have_ to tell me anything," Draco muttered, covering his annoyance with a soft tone, and she looked up at him gratefully. He felt a little bad, snapping at her, since it seemed to have stressed her out. Making her argue with Potter wouldn't help anyone.

"But," Weasley said, suddenly perking up, "if someone rewrote the book to suit their needs, that must mean that person had their hands on the original book at some point, right?"

Hermione considered this with a tilt of her head. "There is a disturbing amount of this book that is, indeed, identical to the real one. So yes, you're right of course… maybe I'm not the _only_ person alive who knows how to make a Horcrux. This book is obviously not very old. It's been spelled to look worn... but I know a worn book when I see one, and this is obviously fake. Just look at the binding..."

Harry looked very disturbed at this idea, and though Draco had only hints at what they were talking about, the idea of super-powerful Death Eaters certainly made him nervous, too.

But then again… The Dark Lord was dead. Potter had killed him. How powerful could this "Horcux" have really made him?

"And so, back to the point." Hermione said, clearing her throat. "That's why they want me, and that's why many of those- half, actually- involved in the Marriage Law are in very real danger."

She put the book down carefully on the coffee table, looking at everyone in the room in turn. "So I ask again: Where was Pansy Parkinson's husband?"


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: Merry Christmas! ^.^_

**Chapter 23: The Something More**

There was a blue flash of light from the backyard, making Harry and Ginny jump.

"It's okay," Hermione said to her friends, holding out a hand. "It's just the Manor's security spells being put back in place- Narcissa must have activated them again." She recognized the spell easily enough- it was similar to the ones she would put on their campsite last year.

"So we know no one unwelcome is inside right now. No emergency tonight," Draco added, sitting back onto the couch with a sigh.

"If you're going to the address Parkinson gave you," Harry began, looking directly at Draco, "then you had better wait for us."

"Harry," Hermione said, confused. "You know we're not the secret-keepers. We can't bring you there, and you can't follow us."

Harry nodded. "I know, but I'd like to be 'on call,' at least. If something goes wrong…"

"We'd be totally screwed," Draco finished. "Because even if you were waiting behind to jump into action, if they have us trapped in a house under fidelius protection you wouldn't be able to find us if you were looking right at the place."

Harry grimaced, but seemed to accept Draco's point, nodding.

"I'll let you know, Harry," Hermione said. "Personally, I don't think it's such a good idea to go… why did she specify I should know the location, too?" The whole thing was very suspicious. She had never liked Pansy, and the girl had made her feelings about the worth of Harry's life, at least, perfectly clear when she tried to give him up last year. How was she supposed to _trust_ someone like that?

Draco snorted. "No way you're going, anyways, since you're the one they want. And I'm not stupid enough to go alone unless I talk to Pansy again first. I'm going to try to get ahold of her tomorrow…"

"Is that safe?" Hermione asked.

"I'm beginning to think that it might not be safe around her parents… but I'll invite Pansy over here."

"And… that's safe?" Hermione asked again, trying not to sound too skeptical. She didn't know much about Draco's personal life at Hogwarts, but he seemed to be pretty good friends with Pansy. Even so… his friends had been known to turn against him before. Like Vincent Crabbe.

"Pansy would do a lot of things to survive, but she wouldn't hurt me," Draco said confidently, and Hermione frowned. There was a small knot in her stomach, and she concluded that she was worried about Draco, trusting someone like Parkinson with his life. Just how close were they, anyways?

Wait… why did she care? Draco was permitted to have loyal friends- everyone had people they trusted, even Slytherins. So why did she feel so… _frustrated_ with having Pansy come over?

Harry stood up. "Let us know what you decide to do. I'll do a little digging at the Auror's office… see if I can find any recent info on the Parkinsons." Hermione hugged both her friends, leading them to the front entrance. Draco followed along behind her- even though they were safe, she had a feeling he didn't want to leave her alone. Or maybe he didn't want to _be_ alone. Either way, she was glad for the company back to her corridor after Harry and Ginny were gone. It was quite a walk, afterall.

"I'm sorry if we didn't… include you in our conversation much," Hermione said, feeling the need to apologize for the whole issue. Harry didn't trust Draco, and Hermione knew there was still a lot she didn't know about her husband, either. But he had saved her life, at great personal risk, and whether it was smart or not she trusted him.

But she wouldn't break Harry's trust. She wouldn't tell Draco any more information on Horcuxes without Harry's approval. And probably Ron's too, actually.

Draco shook his head. "It's fine. There will always be things you can't tell me, Hermione. I get it, really. There was a time when we were enemies, and that complicates a lot of our secrets…"

Hermione nodded, glad that he understood. And now that that was out of the way… "So, Pansy Parkinson…" she started, tangling her fingers in the silk of her skirt absentmindedly.

"Yeah?" Draco asked, looking sideways at her.

"She's, uh… a very good friend of yours?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I said that before. What's wrong with you? You look angry, but I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything new to piss you off."

She was mildly surprised. Did she look angry? She schooled her face into a calm expression, wondering what was wrong with her.

"Oh Merlin," Draco said suddenly, coming to a full stop. She stopped too, turning back to face him.

"What?"

He was grinning wickedly, as if he found something about her demeanor extremely amusing. "You're jealous! You are actually jealous!"

Her heart fluttered around, her eyes growing wide. She opened her mouth to deny it… and then realized he was right. Had she lost her mind? She sighed heavily. "I overheard her saying once that she had an arranged marriage agreed on since she was a baby, and I've suspected for a while it was with you…"

"Well, yeah. It was," Draco said simply. "Most pure-blood families arrange matches when their kids are young… doesn't mean we _have _to follow them, though. Those kinds of agreements are broken all the time if one of the participants finds another eligible witch or wizard that they would rather marry…"

"Eligible. So, Pure-blood."

"Yeah. Pure-blood. Unless you're my Aunt Andromeda, and you get blasted off the family tree." He shook his head, maintaining that annoying grin. "But Pansy and I had already agreed we didn't like the plan. She was probably just trying to use it as a last-ditch attempt to get out of the Marriage Law. She always fancied Zabini, though she'd kill me for telling you that."

Hermione felt like a weight was off her shoulders. Even without the law, Draco wouldn't have married Pansy. Probably.

And even without the Law, his options would have been limited. What a sad, boxed-in life pure-blood children were offered in families like Draco's. She thought of the Weasleys participating in arranged marriages, and concluded there would be a lot of snub-nosed brides with puking pastilles hidden in their breakfasts…

It was an amusing thought.

"Of course," Draco said, continuing their walk forward, "we would all be blasted off our respective family trees now, so I guess there's no real need to worry."

Hermione snorted. "Were you worried? Because I've _seen_ the Black Family tree, and your picture isn't flattering. Besides… were you aware that you and Harry are, like, second cousins? Once removed? Not that it shows him on the tree, but you could easily make the connections. I think there was a time when that would have made you want to blast _yourself _off the tree."

To her relief, Draco took the joke well, laughing lightly. The two came around the bend to her area of the house, and Draco walked her all the way to the parlor.

They stood, face to face, and when Draco opened his mouth to say 'good night' she cut him off. "Want to stay for another drink?" she tried. Their first date had been a tense, Death Eater discussion-filled mess. They might as well sit around and talk a little about things that didn't involve Pansy Parkinson, muggle-born sacrifices, or Horcruxes.

"Sure…" he said quietly, all humor gone from his face, now. He was looking down at her with an indiscernible intensity, and the look took her breath away. Instead of following her into the room, he leaned down towards her, and she found herself leaning up to meet him, her hands on his shoulders. There was no thought involved- it all happened too fast. His lips met hers, and it seemed like a spark had suddenly, out of nothing, caught hold.

The kiss deepened, and she felt his tongue slip in to meet hers. His mouth was hot against her, and she leaned into him, his arms coming around her waist. She felt his hands gently gripping the swell of her hips, his fingers massaging over the orange voluminous fabric of her dress.

"Draco…" she whispered against him, and he kissed her harder, shutting out sound.

After a moment he pulled back for a breath, and managed, "Don't send me away tonight…"

Her heart started to race like a caged bird as he moved that glorious wet warmth to her neck, kissing and sucking lightly at the sensitive skin.

She didn't want him to leave tonight. This was only their first date... but then again, he was technically her husband. Was it okay to want him so badly? Was it okay to just let go, and let them both just have one night of passion? She had never even _been_ with a man before him- this was not an area she excelled at, and clear thinking was becoming harder and harder.

Now that her mouth was free, however, it didn't really matter if her brain was half numb- she had made a habit of talking things through, and she couldn't stop herself now. "Why, Draco? I need… more."

He paused, pulling away enough that he could meet her eyes. "Are you trying to confuse me, because that made no sense."

"It made sense in my head…" she muttered. "I want to do this... I really, really, do, but I need something more from you."

"What? What do you need, Hermione? I can't… I won't make some kind of love declaration just to get you in bed, alright? I don't know how I feel yet, about us, so it would be a lie."

She nodded, she knew that. She was glad he was being honest, especially since he was a self-professed liar. She hadn't even worked through her own feelings about this remarkably changed Draco… how did she feel, really? It was hard to think about such things with his body pressed close to hers and those gray eyes staring at her earnestly.

And for her, that was a problem. Hermione couldn't possibly separate feelings from sex… she had said so before. She had made herself clear. So why did she want to change her mind?

"Okay…" Draco said, taking a step back, and Hermione was shocked by how much she missed his warmth. She wanted to grab the front of his robes and press him to the wall of the narrow corridor. Or she wanted him to do that to her, trapping her between his body and the wall…

Those images running through her mind were definitely not helping her discern her feelings.

"How about this?" Draco said calmly. Too calmly, like he was trying very hard not to act out some of his own fantasy's similar to the one's running through her head. "I like you a lot. You're not just smart- you're caring and hopeful and honest," he moved close again, his fingers reaching out to touch the sides of her face. "You're not just pretty, either- you're sexy- often unintentionally-, your hair has a very interesting mixture of light and dark colors, and you've got a smile that's infectious. Er, not like a disease. In a good way. You influence people. You influence me."

She stared up at him, her mouth dropping open. Lucky for her, Draco was a Wizard, otherwise she would have suspected the whole monologue came from a movie. It was almost too sweet coming from that tongue that was so sharp in the past. She smiled up at him, her hands covering his own on her face.

"You, Draco Malfoy, are a charmer," she said with a smirk. She was backing up as Draco moved forward, his body pushing hers back. "Will you still be like this… tomorrow?"

Her back hit the wall and it was like a switch went off inside her. She grabbed the front of his dress-robes, tangling her fists in them, and pulled his mouth back to hers without waiting for his answer. His forearms came to rest on either side of her head against the wall, effectively trapping her in his embrace… she found it excited her more, not being able to move away. She could tell all her doubts to promptly shut up and let her continue to kiss him, her hands coming up behind his head to push into his feather-soft hair.

She let one hand fall back over his shoulder, finally making her way to the front of his robes. She found the clip keeping the top billowing portion attached on his right side, and undid it. The material sagged, and he moved to quickly undo the other side and let the robe fall down his arms, the jacket with it. Immediately, he returned his arms to her sides, and now when he pressed his body full against her own she could feel every angle of him, his scent filling her with a strange familiar longing… he smelled like spiced apples and an indescribable musky scent Hermione had never focused on before…

They were both breathing heavily when he moved his hands behind her, sliding them against her dress and the wall, and started to work at the hook and eyes and snaps keeping the floaty orange thing on her. Hermione sighed as he finally just pulled out his wand with a frustrated groan, running it against the back of her with a word.

Her gown ripped, and she gasped. "This was probably very expensive!" she chided halfheartedly as she let the tattered orange top fall to her waist. For some reason, she wasn't even nervous anymore- her blood was pumping too hard and loud to allow any traitorous thoughts or doubts to manifest in her brain. She had made her decision without even realizing it, and there was no going back now.

"I can afford it," Draco answered in a low, raspy voice. He seemed very focused on what was in front of him, and not on the ripped gown dropping beside his robes on the floor.

She had chosen to stick with muggle undergarments, since the constricting Victorian corsets were really and truly not her thing. Did all witches wear such nonsense on formal occasions?

Draco seemed quite appreciative of what she had chosen to wear… though now she wished she had went with something a little more fancy than plain white. She had had no way of knowing her bra and panties would be seen by anyone other than herself that night.

He bent down, kissing the tops of her breasts as his hands played along the bottom edge of the fabric on her back. His tongue swept under the top seam, licking at the soft skin underneath, and she shivered. His hands had begun to fumble at the clasps on back, and as a few seconds passed he grew frustrated again. Before he could pull his wand out of his waistband again Hermione grabbed his wrist, amused. "Don't you dare break this bra- I hate shopping for new ones!" she said, only half kidding. She reached behind and undid her own bra quickly, the fabric falling away to expose her skin to the man in front of her.

His eyes were wide, and then suddenly he smirked, coming close and placing a hand on her chin. "That was almost a feat of magic…" he purred, "let me show you what magic I can do with just my fingers, too."

His words sent her blood pumping hot, and she was shocked by his unabashed forwardness. She had never heard him speak like _that_, and as his hand started to slip downward across her stomach she felt her knees grow weak. She put her arm around his shoulder, leaning heavily against him and the wall as his hand slid swiftly under the thin fabric of her panties.

Coherent thought stopped abruptly as his finger slid skillfully over her, touching that small knob of flesh near the front. She thrust her hips against his hand, gasping at the delicious friction as Draco watched her face carefully, the smirk on his face fading. "This time, I'll be the one to make you cum, Hermione," he whispered, coming close and nipping at her ear lightly. "We're going to do this properly."

His fingers slid lower against her now wet folds, dipping into her tight walls. Just one finger, at first, but a moment later he added another, stretching her wider.

"Mmmm…" she murmured, her eyes fluttering shut and her mouth falling open. He was still brushing his thumb against the little pearl that was so sensitive, and she wiggled her hips further to increase the pressure. Draco… was not exaggerating. He was very skilled with his hands.

And she really didn't want to think about why.

Suddenly, he stopped, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her towards the door to her bedroom. The moment his hands slipped away she cried out in frustration, but when she noticed where they were headed anticipation filled her. It wasn't over- not even close.

The moment they were in the room he slammed the door shut behind them, wrapping his arms around her tightly, his motions fast and almost alarming. He pulled at his own clothes with one hand while he kissed her messily, attempting to remove his shirt while keeping their bodies firmly together. This didn't work so well. His erection was large and obvious, even if she couldn't _feel_ it hard against her stomach while Draco worked on his shirt. She decided to put her own hands at work removing the last of his clothing after the shirt- his black pants- while she started to kick off her white heels.

"Leave them on," Draco growled against her lips, and again his words had that amazing power to make the heat inside her boil over.

She squeaked as he suddenly pushed her, tipping her over onto the puffy white down covering on the bed. She looked up at him, standing over her, his shirt finally removed and his pants unbuttoned. God, he was handsome, looking so disheveled with that devilish gleam in his eyes. He was so different, this time- he didn't have to treat her like a skittish creature because she _wanted_ this. He could be himself, and she really appreciated what she was seeing of him so far.

He definitely liked to be the commanding type in bed, she was learning, as he turned her over on the mattress, her stomach to the bedding and her hips raised slightly. Her heels were still on, but one of them was dangling, not quite surviving when Draco pulled down her last tiny scrap of clothing.

Now she was very much on display for him, and for the first time since deciding to do this she felt a little anxious… this was only her second time, and Draco seemed… well… experienced. What if she wasn't any good? Was there something _more_ she should be doing?

She was tempted to ask him, but before she could look back over her shoulder she felt him ready against her entrance, large and sliding between her folds. He didn't enter her… just slid against her slowly, his hands on her hips, his warm fingers pressed to the soft curving flesh. The feel of his manhood rubbing her felt nice… but it made her impatient. She needed more, and she needed it now. She whimpered, adjusting the angle of her hips in a way she hoped would give him the hint, her back arched down. She threw him a glance over her shoulder, and he chuckled, leaning over her slightly, one knee on the bed and the other still on the ground.

"What do you want, Hermione?" he said, his tone teasing as he continued to rub against her.

Her nervousness at doing badly was working against her, now, and she bit her lip, unsure. She knew what he wanted her to say, but she couldn't bring herself to say it… it was too embarrassing.

He kissed along her back, creating a light trail wherever he could reach. "Too shy to tell me you want me inside you?" he asked playfully, and she shuddered.

"Please…" she managed, and that seemed to be enough for him. He plunged into her swiftly, full to the hilt, no need to worry about her being hurt this time. She was glad her first time was over with- the feel of him stretching her inner walls was more like a gentle voluminous glide, and not the pinched struggle of before. She gasped as he did it again, drawing back nearly to the tip and then crashing inside her like a wave.

It was incredible, at this angle, his hands gripping her hips and pulling her backwards to meet his thrusts. She could feel him hitting that spot deep inside her core deftly. Every time he slammed into her she cried out, every impact bringing her closer to her end.

She was suddenly gripped by an urge to see the face of the man who was inside her body, and she twisted around, trying to get a good look. His face was tight with concentration, his pale slim body gaining a thin sheen of sweat as he worked. He met her eyes as she turned around with a half-lidded but very intense look of his own.

In one very speedy movement he pulled out of her, flipped her bodily onto her back and moved on top of her, gripping her face in his hands and dealing her a bruising kiss as he slid back inside. She responded in kind, one hand curling into his short blond hair and the other feeling the muscles of his back as he continued his hurried movements. She liked this much better- watching his face as he slowly started to lose control, letting small sounds mix in with Hermione's increasingly loud cries as he fought to maintain his pace.

"Come on, Granger…" he said, inexplicably slipping into her old surname, "…I wanna hear you scream my name."

The pressure inside her was begging for release, building like a volcano about to erupt. She was so close, now… she pushed her hips up to meet his thrusts, her legs moving up to grip the sides of his waist. He leaned over, stroking his tongue over the tip of her breast, and gave it a small nip as she moaned.

With a few more pounding strokes inside her, she was undone, peaking as the hot wave ran its course through her body, her back arching against him as she obeyed, calling out his name.

"Ah! Draco!"

Making a sound that was close to a growl, he continued his motions, and she continued to wrap her legs around him, drawing him as deep as possible. He pushed his hands under her, cupping her butt and lifting her up off the mattress a couple inches to reach the perfect, deep angle. Hermione rode her orgasm to the end, and it seemed to her that Draco knew exactly what to do to draw it out, the new angle making her legs shake with pleasure as she tried to keep them around his hips despite her sudden onset of exhaustion. It wasn't long before he had reached his end, too, staying as deep within her as possible for a moment, suddenly still as he cried out and gripped her waist tightly against him.

With fast breaths, he looked down at her, finally letting himself fall partly onto her torso, haphazardly kissing her breast where his head lay. "Damn, Hermione…" he said, at a loss for words for once.

She played with running her fingers through his hair softly. "That bad?" she asked, half-jokingly, and he huffed, turning his head to meet her eyes. His gray eyes were soft and deep, and she imagined she could almost see his every emotion as though they were written down in a book. There was the satisfaction, the affection, the humor… and something else. The way he was looking up at her, just for that brief moment, she could have fooled herself that he really did love her…

Before she could tell if it was real or not, he blinked, his face filling with incredulous laughter. "Hermione, let's just say that if you tell me this time that we'll never do _that_ again, I might have to get down on my knees and beg."

With a roll, he pulled out, lying down next to her and pulling the comforter up and over them both. Even though it was summer, the Manor was kept at a comfortable temperature, and snuggling under the heavy down blanket felt nice. Hermione, trying to ignore the mess between her legs, snuggled up closer and laid her head on his shoulder, and he didn't seem to mind. His arm slipping around her lazily.

The satisfied lethargy and the exhaustion from the day's events took hold of their bodies, and they slept.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24: The Night Time Stroll**

Hermione had not been sure how she'd wake up feeling the next morning. As it turned out, it felt pretty good, waking up next to someone who wasn't trying to run away immediately. In fact, Draco was still asleep, facing her with his arm buried under his pillow and his hair a mess.

Hermione had set an alarm spell to go off on weekdays for her apprenticeship, but by the pale light just beginning to peek in through her window she guessed it was still early.

She stayed still, wanting to bask in the warm, comfortable sleepy feeling for as long as possible.

Next to him.

How could she ever have found his face anything but beautiful? When sleeping, he wore no masks. He didn't hide behind snide remarks and twisted smirks- he looked peaceful, his eyelids fluttering lightly. If she could have seen him sleeping months ago, would she have changed her opinion of him quicker?

He opened his eyes halfway, taking in a deep sleepy breath as he adjusted his head on his pillow.

"Morning…" he muttered, his arm snaking out suddenly and grabbing her around her middle. She laughed as he pulled her against him into a spooning position, nuzzling her neck affectionately. He kissed her at the spot where her shoulder met her collar bone, and she hummed happily, settling back against his warm nude body.

"My alarm's going to go off soon…" she whispered, staring at her wand on her bedside table. She hadn't put it there- she could only assume a house elf had cleaned up their things while they were sleeping… which was not an altogether settling thought.

Draco kissed her skin again, breathing in deeply as he buried his face in her hair. "Ignore it."

"I have to go to my apprenticeship today… you do too, right?"

"Skip it- let's go out for breakfast."

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned around to face him again. "I'll meet you half way. Let's go to breakfast now, and still have time to get to work before our shifts."

He sighed heavily, but seemed to take her advice, rolling out of bed. He rubbed his neck as he stood and stretched, and even though she had spent the entire night with this man naked beside her, seeing him standing there made her blush. His body was slender, but there was a fine working of muscle that moved as he stretched, and a very pleasing line at his hip that seemed to draw her attention down over the flat plains of his abdomen to-

"Hermione? Are we going?"

She blinked. She hadn't moved to get out of bed yet. "Uh, yeah…" she managed, and after a moment's hesitation she flung the blanket boldly off herself, hurrying to her closet. She could feel Draco's eyes on her and she was sure she was red all over from embarrassment. He had seen plenty of her naked body last night… why did this make her feel nervous?

In an instant, he was behind her, his arms slipping under her own and encircling her body. "Or, we could skip breakfast…?"

She almost laughed, then she noticed that her open wardrobe door had a mirror in it. He was watching her from his vantage point at her shoulder, his eyes scanning appreciatively over every bit of her bare skin. "We'd be late…" she finally said, and Draco groaned.

"Alright, fine- I get the feeling I can't change your mind about being late, huh? I'm going to pop by my room to get some clothes. I'll meet you at the front gate in ten minutes," he said, grabbing his wand off the bedside table where it rested next to hers. He apparated, giving her a grin beforehand as he noticed her still staring at him. She couldn't help it! She had never exactly seen a naked man just walking around her bedroom before.

She shook her head, trying to pick out clothes that would be both work appropriate and pretty for breakfast with Draco. Since he had given her ten minutes, she decided on a cleansing spell in lieu of a shower, hurriedly trying to do something with her hair…. maybe she should become the kind of person who wears hats? Would hats suit her, until her hair grew out?

She stuck her tongue out at her image, deciding that it didn't matter. She replaced the headband from last night and shrugged- what more could she do? And as long as the mess was kept down, it wasn't too bad.

...

Draco waited by the front door, checking his watch. He wasn't at all bothered that she was late to meet him- he didn't care one bit about being late to the Ministry. He was beginning to think that this internship wasn't for him, afterall… and really, he could afford to just wait until an opening for a respectable job opened up at the Ministry. He had good marks in school- and the internship wasn't wholly necessary.

Hell, working at all wasn't particularly necessary for a Malfoy.

But giving it up after Hermione had been so pissed he'd gotten it… he wasn't certain that was a smart course of action, either. She just might want to duel him again… though if that ended with a repeat of last night, he could handle it.

Draco had been with women before. Not many, but enough to know that it was _different_ with Hermione. She wasn't some perfect natural talent in bed or anything, but her shyness was refreshing and watching her reactions as she came… she was beautiful.

But there was more to it than just that- it was like they were in sync, like every movement was anticipated and appreciated… and the look in her mocha eyes afterwards, when they were just lying together, was burned into his memory. He had seen something deeper than just satisfaction in those shining orbs…

"Sorry!" her voice shook him out of his memories and back to the present, and he smiled at her. She had appeared with a "crack" of apparition, hurriedly shoving papers into a large tote she had flung over her shoulder. "I forgot my readings on Selective Memory Charms for that damned Wishing Mirror I'm supposed to be working on."

Draco raised his eyebrows. "They have you making things already?"

She shook her head, looking exasperated. "Mr. Wright sets me up to fail as often as possible. He says learning from mistakes is the best way to learn…"

Draco laughed, the sound coming out a little more biting than he intended, and she shot him a glare. "It seems like that would be a nightmare for you…" Draco managed, snickering still as she smacked his arm.

"I can handle failure! Really, I can! Oh, shut up, you."

They apparated, Draco side-alonging with Hermione, who insisted she knew a nice little café where they could grab something small before work. She led him to a place by Twillfitt and Tattings, a shop his mother frequented for robes. In fact, he had been here recently for his own new work-robes, including the gray one's he was wearing today.

The two ordered food and sat down. It seemed Hermione ate light in the mornings, though Draco would have preferred a more substantial meal than the croissants they were eating.

"So," she said, her tone light, "what do I refer to you as now? My husband? My boyfriend? That guy I live with?"

"Um… all of the above, I guess? Technically?" he answered. He hadn't really thought about how ridiculous this situation was until he tried to label them. "It depends on who you're talking to, I suppose. Like if that nosy little red-head starts asking questions again…"

"Ginny? Oh, I'll tell Ginny you're my boyfriend."

"_What_? Come on, then she'll start prodding me for information again…"

"_You_ can avoid her- I'm the one who'll have to answer to her 'I told you so' lecture."

"Really? She predicted this?" he asked, incredulous. He would definitely not expect one of her little Gryffindor friends to find him to be anything but the villain, especially in Potter's core group.

_He_ certainly saw his old self that way, now. Hell, he had known he was the villian since that night in the astronomy tower sixth year...

Hermione shook her head, smiling into her coffee. "It was when you ran into her trying to find me… you were waiting outside the Gryffindor Common Room's entrance. You seemed worried, and I guess it threw her enough that she started inventing all sorts of reasons for you to be concerned for my safety."

Draco remembered the moment, now… he thought Weasley had been giving him an odd look. He rolled his eyes. "She was making up facts more than Trelawny does when she reads your tea…"

"Really? You weren't worried about me, then, because you cared?"

He cocked his head to the side, thinking about it. Maybe he did care… but not the same way he cared now. Not enough to fight off a crowd of Death Eaters for her, as he'd been willing to do at the Nott Estate. That was the night when it all clicked. He hadn't even thought about any other option when he left to find her- he knew he was the only one who could save her, and letting her die had simply not been an option.

Because the war was over. Because no one needed to die because of their beliefs anymore. Because he didn't think he could handle living in the Manor without her presence.

"I care now," he answered simply, drinking his tea without elaborating.

They were silent for a long moment, and he knew she was hoping he would say more. There was nothing more to say… he just didn't know how to reconcile the warring emotions inside him. He knew, now, that her parentage shouldn't bother him. Really, it shouldn't. But there was still this nagging in the back of his mind, wondering what _other_ people would think… the Marriage Law was one thing, but to _choose_ her? His mother would be difficult enough, but what about when his father's sentence in Azkaban was finished?

The situation was impossible on many levels. And yet here they were, like a totally normal couple, having coffee before work.

Should it feel this natural if they weren't _supposed_ to be together? If this was wrong, why did it come so easily?

"Draco?" she said softly, and he looked at her over the cup he had raised to his lips. "What do you think about having dinner with my parents this weekend? If we don't both die on Wednesday, of course."

Wednesday? Oh, damn. Pansy. He had almost forgotten. He cleared his throat, setting down his drink. "You are not going anywhere Wednesday."

"Yes, I am. I know you think I'm not, but it's not in your power to stop me. I can tell that you're going to go, and I won't let you go alone."

"I never said I was going anywhere- I still need to try and contact Pansy."

She nodded solemnly. "Whatever you decide, I'm with you. Don't try to argue- I know the address, too."

He sighed heavily, feeling immensely frustrated. Why was she always so flippant with her life? She disregarded torture as if it didn't happen, and she'd jump into the fray again in a heartbeat to help someone she cared about… or even someone she didn't care about!

This woman was surely going to be the death of him.

"Maybe I won't go, then."

"She could need your help…"

"She's my friend, but she's not more important than you," he concluded with a frown.

She was silent, and Draco assumed she was pleased to find out she was his top priority. However, when he looked up to her face he saw her mouth down turned in an expression of obvious disapproval. "You can't just categorize the worth of someone's life by your own personal judgement of importance."

"Of course you can!" Draco answered, annoyed. "Are you seriously telling me you wouldn't protect your friends over a stranger?"

"It depends on the situation! I would never prioritize my boyfriend over my friends, though, or one friend over the other… oh, this conversation is impossible! Try to find out what Pansy wants, and then we can make an educated decision. Are you going to answer my question or not?" She huffed, folding her arms over her chest.

At this point, Draco didn't even remember what her question had been, and he didn't particularly care. He was again reminded that they were two very different people, with very different priorities in life. Was she just trying to pick a fight? He didn't even understand what he had said wrong. "I don't understand you sometimes," he said, shaking his head. "You can't save everybody."

She looked angry, and then, all at once, she drooped like a flower on a hot day. "You really see the world like that, don't you? That you _have_ to make a choice?"

"Sometimes…" he muttered, keeping his body angled away from her in his chair, watching people on the main street down the road walk by.

She surprised him, then, when she reached across the table and grabbed the hand that was resting there. She held just his fingers in her own, squeezing lightly. "The war is over, and the Death Eaters won't catch me again. The only reason they caught me before was that I let my guard down, and that won't happen a second time. You won't lose me, Draco, and you won't lose Pansy either."

"You're too damn optimistic for your own good."

She nodded her assent. "But I back up that optimism with ability. I'm strong, Draco, and if this is a trap I can handle it. And I trust in my friend's abilities, too. That includes you." She smiled at him, and he couldn't hold onto his annoyance any longer.

He rubbed his forehead, trying to think. Then it hit him- her question. "Your parents… you want me to have dinner with your _parents_?"

She looked surprised at the change of subject, but nodded. "I still haven't told them anything, of course…"

"Anything?"

"About us. About the Marriage Law."

Draco's jaw dropped. He knew that she didn't want them to think he was her boyfriend, but he assumed that her parents would have had some clues about the crazy Law that rocked the world their daughter lived in. "That explains why you acted so strange when I met them…"

"I was worried you might say something to blow my cover," Hermione answered with a small shake of her head. "The Marriage Law is something that annoys Wizards and Witches, and has caused a lot of pain… but no one seems properly outraged. If muggles tried something like this law, there would be riots."

Draco opened his mouth, and realized that unbidden he was about to say something anti-muggle at the mention of "riots." He snapped his mouth closed abruptly. He wasn't used to having to take such careful stock of his words… he didn't want to offend Hermione, and he didn't really, at his core, believe such things anymore. About muggles and violence, that is.

Well, maybe a little.

"Riots?" he said instead a little dryly, and he saw Hermione had noticed his strange halting speech.

"Well… weren't you angry about it when it was announced?"

"Yes, but the Ministry has plenty of laws that piss off the average person. We don't always like the laws, but we follow them or find ways to skirt around them…"

"You don't try to change them?"

Draco smirked at her. "There's only two ways to change laws: Taking over the Ministry by force or filling someone's pockets with money. The Marriage Law was way too big for bribery, as we found out."

Hermione shook her head, glancing down at her watch. She jumped up, nearly spilling her coffee. "I'm late!" she cried, grabbing her tote off the chair next to her.

"Wait!" Draco called before she could disapperate, and she paused. "I'll go. To see your parents, that is. If you want."

Hermione smiled, wide and genuine, before she vanished.

He hoped he knew what he was getting into.

…

After his time at the Ministry, which included some admonishments for his tardiness that he bore in dignified silence, he sent an owl to Pansy Parkinson. He wasn't a fool- he didn't mention anything about their meeting, or the secret location. Not that he could have if he wanted to.

He simply asked about her health, and mentioned that she should come over for tea tomorrow, if she had time. It wouldn't sound odd if someone else intercepted the letter- they were friends, afterall.

He received a reply late that night, but it wasn't the one he was hoping for.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_We're dearly sorry to inform you that our daughter hasn't been seen in __several weeks__._

At this point, he was suspicious. Didn't she come with her parents to the Charity Ball just last night?

_We are deeply worried- we suspect she may have fallen in with a bad crowd. If you have any information about her whereabouts, we would appreciate any help you could offer. Thank you._

_-Mrs. Irena Parkinson._

Draco fought off the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If _her parents_ were Death Eaters, as his mother suspected, why would they be trying to track her down? Why would she run away?

But if _she_ had joined the new Death Eater renegades… he could see why her parents would be worried, looking for her. He could see why she would run away, not wanting to involve them.

But why would Pansy, dainty high-society Pansy, join a group of leaderless killers and psychopaths? It just didn't fit.

Something else was going on… there was more to this story.

Draco, letter in hand, headed off to Hermione's parlor.

...

"Hmm…" Hermione said, staring down at the neat script. "We're missing something."

Draco nodded. That's what he had thought, too. "Why would Pansy run away? Maybe the address she gave us is the place she's staying?"

"Probably, but we still need to figure out _why_… facts seem to be pointing to her creating a trap for us…"

Draco felt an unexpected wave of sadness at her words. She was right. Wasn't that what they had suspected all along? Pansy… he could see how, if forced, she would give up an awful lot of people. But not him. He would never have led the Death Eaters to her doorstep, if asked.

That was a lie. If his family were held hostage, he would have had little choice. And maybe that's what had happened with Pansy.

"However," Hermione started, and Draco gave her his full attention, "we just don't know. Which is why I think we should go tonight."

"W… what!? _Tonight_?" Draco sputtered, completely thrown. Was this woman crazy, or what!? "Why would you want to go tonight? Are you in some hurry to die?"

"If they're laying a trap, then they probably won't be prepared for us until Wednesday. It makes more sense to catch them by surprise. If we show up and the room is full of guys in black cloaks and masks, we have a good chance of apparating away before they even see us."

She had a point. But Draco didn't want to go anywhere where there might be guys in cloaks and masks… except maybe a Halloween party. And only if that party had enough booze for him to tolerate his wife's insanity when faced with danger.

She had walked into her bedroom and come back with a cloak before he could formulate a proper answer, and as she walked towards him dressed for a late night stroll he mumbled, "But… you're not going…"

"Get your cloak."

"I… who said _I _was going?"

"Then I'll go by myself."

"No, you bloody well won't!"

"Then get your cloak- I'll floo Harry and Ginny and let them know what we're doing."

He was utterly defeated. He couldn't stop her, and he couldn't let her go alone. What could he do?

He got his cloak.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Yay! Halfway point reached, and this thing has almost 200 reviews! Thanks everyone!_

**Chapter 25: The Secret-Keeper**

Hermione looked up at the small cottage. Even though it was definitely the correct address, it just _had_ to be wrong… such a sweet little house, with ivy growing on the sides and a neatly kept charming little garden in front, didn't seem to paint the picture of a devious trap. Of course, maybe that was the point?

"We're really doing this?" Draco whispered. He sounded scared. No, he sounded like he was trying to sound like he wasn't scared, and failing horribly.

She grabbed his hand, and he rolled his eyes at her, but didn't let go.

The two walked towards the front door, Hermione pulling out her wand and unlocking it quietly. The two slipped inside, and she half expected a caterwauling charm to go off. Nothing.

If the house was under a fidelius charm, they didn't need other security. But if it had been a trap, someone would have set something as a precaution. Hermione wasn't sure what to think anymore.

The inside of the house was expanded slightly, but it was still a very cute little cottage. There was plenty of wood paneling, and a fireplace beside a large comfy sofa. Nothing menacing was hiding in the shadows. Nothing reached out to grab them. They were alone.

Then she heard it- a strange creaking from down the hall. Pressing a finger to her lips, she tilted her head in that direction.

There it was again.

Draco nodded, and the two moved forward into the darkness of the hallway. There was a door at their right, and Hermione braced herself, her wand gripped tightly, as she opened it. She held her wand out defensively, plunging inside and looking around.

An empty bathroom, done in a horrendous shade of pale pink.

She looked back at Draco. There was a small window in the bathroom, letting in soft moonlight for them to see by. He looked ghostly in that light, his wand held in a death-grip and his pale features tight with nervousness. She stepped back to him, indicating the only other door down the hall.

She stepped towards it, listening.

There was that creak again, and something else. There was a person in there, she was sure- she could hear breathing! Someone was breathing heavy enough for her to hear straight through the door, and the sound was very feminine. Pansy?

She reached for the door handle, and at the exact same moment Draco spoke out loud, sounding as if an idea had just hit him. "Hermione, don't-"

The door was open, and Hermione saw something she was certain would give her nightmares for weeks.

There was Pansy Parkinson, completely nude. She was- for lack of a better word- _riding_ on top of a man with thick black hair and a tone muscled body. Hermione could tell, since he was also _completely nude_. It took Pansy a few more thrusts downward to notice the interruption, her thin frame working up and down on the man's large shaft, her dark hair bouncing with her.

It really was an unfortunate angle for Hermione to be standing at at that moment, because there really wasn't anything left out of her viewpoint. True, she only saw the _back_ of Pansy, but everything happening below was very visible.

Then Pansy noticed her. And things only got worse.

"What are you doing here?" the girl said, much too calmly, looking over her shoulder and still straddling the man below her. She peered past Hermione. "Oh, hey Draco. Would you mind getting the _hell_ out of my bedroom?"

"Where have I heard that before?" he muttered, grabbing Hermione's shoulder and steering her petrified body out of the room. "Don't mind us- we'll be waiting in the living room," he called back, shutting the door behind them.

Much too calm. Everyone was way the hell too calm. "I… but… who…" Hermione said nonsensically, her face heating up exponentially with each moment as she thought about what she had seen.

Draco smirked at her when they reached the living room, and she fought the incredible urge to slap the smirk off his face. "I guess we know where her husband went. At least, I assume it was her husband, since she was still wearing her ring."

"Got a pretty good look then, huh?" Hermione snapped. Then she stopped, thinking through the way he had easily steered her out and conversed with the naked girl- the naked girl who was right in the middle of having very bouncy sex. "You're calm, because you're not seeing anything new!" she concluded, glaring.

"Uh… why am I the bad guy all of a sudden, here?"

"Because… well, because I am officially creeped out! How could she just act so blasé? How could _you_?"

Draco looked like he was trying hard not to laugh as he sat down on the couch.

"It's not funny!"

"Well, it kind of is, since you were ready to fight off a horde of Death Eaters but got scared about a little sex…"

"I don't think I'd qualify that as a 'little sex.' I think I would qualify that as 'seeing more than I ever wanted to see of Pansy Parkinson's… naughty bits.'"

Draco was holding his middle, now, his face gaining color as he tried to hold back the snickers that were slipping through his mouth. Finally, he burst, and Hermione loomed over him, hands on her hips. "Hermione… you're just so… well, cute!" Draco finished, wiping at tears in his eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's not that funny- really," she muttered.

Draco still obviously disagreed. "Just think- You, Potter, and Weasley wouldn't have stood a chance if you had seen any big bad Dark Wizards shagging- you would have all just stood there like statues," he snorted. "The Golden Trio's greatest weakness! Not scary masks and unforgivables, but a couple of people going at it…!"

"Oh, shut up! I'm not hysterical or anything- I just think it was weird! And you're completely avoiding my earlier question! You've seen her naked before!"

Draco coughed into his hand, attempting to silence the last few chuckles he had in him, and put on his best straight face. "I don't think that was phrased as a question, and frankly I think it's in my best interest if I don't answer you."

Hermione made a frustrated sound and started pacing, a hand to her mouth. Really, Draco had a point- she was making a big deal out of something that was, honestly, a lot better than getting jumped by murderers… but why did they have to act so cool about her bursting in on that scene!? This was not a common occurrence for her! What kind of mischief went on in the dungeons of Hogwarts, anyways!?

And Draco… she didn't need him to tell her anything. He had barely flinched at seeing his _friend_. She was certain that the two must have slept together in the past… obviously she could tell Draco hadn't exactly been a virgin when they got married, but why oh why did it have to be _Parkinson_!? Ugh!

She would have been very happy going her whole life without being privy to _that_ information.

"Hermione, come on, sit down."

"I don't want to sit down."

He grabbed her wrist, making her stop her pacing, and she glared down at him. He shook his head, looking amazing. "Are you seriously upset?"

"No. Yes, but I know I don't have any right to be," she managed. She had never seen herself as the type to pout before… but she was certain that's what she was doing now. She had to stop. It was time to act like an adult- they had business here. Surely there was something serious going on with Pansy. Besides, if Hermione let on how much this bothered her, she'd only get made fun of by the bitchy Slytherin princess.

She sat down next to Draco, trying to rail in the embarrassment and jealousy that had just hit her in rapid succession. She knew that neither one was particularly attractive.

Draco's hand was still on her wrist, and he started to draw circles with his thumb subconsciously as he spoke. "I'm sorry I laughed at you- really, I like that you're like this. It's cute in a _good_ way."

She gave him a sideways look but didn't answer, frowning.

Great. She was cute, like a pet. The funny little childish _virgin_ he had picked up and taken home. She didn't want to be cute- she wanted to be taken seriously. She wanted to exude an air of confidence and control, not insecurity and squeamishness.

When Pansy came out she was fully dressed. Thank Merlin.

And that was when Hermione noticed something she hadn't seen from her view of Pansy's backside…

She stared.

"Well, you're a little early," Pansy said obviously, sitting down in a chair across from them.

"Well, excuse us, but you didn't give us much to go on!" Draco said, frowning. "We thought the whole thing could be a trap!"

Pansy gave him an incredulous look. "Then why did you come?"

Was Hermione crazy? Was she the only one who noticed? Draco didn't seem to have realized anything was different, as he was moving right along to the real reason they had come.

"What, you're not glad to see me?" he tried.

No, she was right. It was obvious in the way she carried herself… everything made sense- why she had run away from home, the man in her bedroom, why her husband wasn't at the Ball…

"I am glad, Draco," Pansy assured him, flashing Hermione a quick glance. "I just wish your… Granger had better manners. Ever hear of knocking, hun?"

Hermione wasn't listening to the taunting- she was thinking.

"Your parents are Death Eaters," Hermione whispered. Her declaration caught Pansy off-guard and she stiffened, narrowing her eyes.

"Wrong. Guess again," Pansy said sharply, looking down her nose at the girl across from her.

Draco was staring at her with a look of confusion as she continued. "They're working _with_ the Death Eaters, then. That's why you need our help- they're trying to have your husband killed."

"And why would they want to do something like that?" Pansy asked. Her voice held a sharp, dangerous edge to it, and Hermione knew if she didn't handle this right there was a chance Pansy would snap on her. She had to be straight and to the point.

"Because when your baby is born, you'll be free from the Marriage Law- but you made it clear you didn't want to divorce him." Hermione couldn't believe what she was about to say next, but as it slipped out she knew it was true. "You love him," she said in a tone full of wonder.

Pansy, the frigid pug-faced terror from Slytherin, was in love with a muggle-born man, and having his baby.

Draco stared at Hermione, then did a double take at Pansy. "Well… I didn't want to comment on your weight gain, and I guess I didn't think past that," he tried, and she shot him a scathing look in return.

Pansy put a hand on her stomach, frowning as she looked at Hermione. "Maybe you didn't cheat to get those good scores at school, afterall," she said, dead serious. "You have some basic deduction skills, unlike blondie, here."

"Hey- come on! You were _trying_ to cover it up at the Ball," Draco said, and in his defense, Hermione had to agree with a nod. She had only just noticed the small bump beneath Pansy's robes. Witch's clothing could be very useful for covering up such things, especially if you chose something loose and billowing.

Pansy gave him a long look. "Draco, do you know why I gave you the option to tell her about this place?" she asked, indicating Hermione with a quick dismissive swipe of her hand.

Draco frowned. "Do you need _her_ help with something?"

"Don't be a moron. I needed to test you. I read the stories the Prophet printed…"

He groaned. "Most of that was very exaggerated…"

Hermione shook her head. "Not the parts about you saving the day. They put the focus on Harry, but they couldn't skip the detail that you got there first."

"I don't care how much of a _hero_ you've become, Draco," Pansy said with a roll of her eyes, as if the word were a childish insult. "I wanted to know if you _loved her_." Again, she threw an errant hand in Hermione's direction.

Draco and Hermione both just stared at the girl.

Pansy sighed. "If you let her in on something personal, something that involved your friends, then I could assume that the article was true and you at least trust her greatly. I needed to make sure _you_ weren't really one of those murderers in the masks."

"Because if so, you'd be leading him right to your husband…" Hermione added, her eyes wide. She couldn't believe all that she was hearing. Pansy Parkinson… who would have thought?

And Since Hermione _had_ come with Draco, Pansy decided she could trust him. It was all so turned around and strange.

"So you ran away from home, Pans? Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could have helped…"

"I didn't know if I could trust _you,_" she said sharply, but Hermione didn't miss the strained, painful way she said the word "you."

Draco sighed heavily. "Who let you down, Pans?"

"Zabini. Draco, don't give me that look- you were a Death Eater before. I remember how you bragged about your mission sixth year the entire trip to school. I knew your family was trying to change its image… but if my husband disappeared, it wouldn't hurt your family at all. If you were with them, I couldn't risk it."

"Pansy, we talked about that! I told you I didn't have any interest…"

"Yes, well, so did Blaise."

Draco's eyes narrowed, his voice flat as he asked, "What did Blaise do?"

Pansy turned her eyes to the floor, her fingers knotting together over her stomach. The motion made her baby bump clearer, and Hermione wondered how far along she was. Three months? "I asked him to help hide us. I'd never cast a fidelius charm before- it was too advanced for me. You know he has that summer home in France…"

"And?" Draco asked, gritting his teeth.

Pansy shrugged, still staring at the floor. "And he calmly told me he would help. You know how good he can be at keeping his emotions at bay- he's too good a liar for even me to read. He sent us to his summer home, and told us he would keep our secret… and then they came."

Hermione gasped, a hand to her mouth. She knew what had been coming, but to hear it… her friend had completely betrayed her! How could he? _Why would_ he?

Pansy gave her a disapproving flicker of her eyes. "Blaise wasn't there, Draco. Neither were my parents. Neither wanted to get mixed up in actual fighting, but they all thought I was disgusting. I was told as much… a disgusting blood-traitor. They promised they wouldn't hurt me. They just wanted to send me to my parents so I could continue my line like a good little witch, and free from the Marriage Law marry a proper Wizard."

Her eyes turned to her friend, and they suddenly looked so soft, so vulnerable. "I didn't mean for it to happen! I didn't mean to cause so much trouble! I just…" She buried her face in her hands, but when she raised her head again her eyes were red but there were no tears shed.

"How did you escape?" Hermione asked, as Draco stood and walked over to his friend. He knelt down to meet her eyes, and she threw her arms around his shoulders. This time Hermione heard sobbing as the girl rested her head against Draco's shoulder, hiding her eyes from the world.

"I wasn't at home," said a voice from behind Hermione, and she turned to see the man from earlier. She blushed at the memory, looking instantly back to the ground. He was very handsome, with a chiseled jaw and strong, broad shoulders. His voice held just the slightest hint at an accent… Italian?

Pansy nodded against Draco's shirt, unwinding her arms from around him as her husband walked towards her. Draco stood up, moving wordlessly back to the couch and giving Hermione a stunned look. This was all very strange for him. She wondered if Pansy had ever cried before.

"He was out buying some supplies for us- we didn't want to stay in Blaise's place too long- it would be too dangerous for him… or so we thought. Anyways, when they saw he wasn't there they were going to wait for him, but I managed to catch them off guard and slip away. I ran and found Pietro, and we enlisted the help of his cousin to create this place."

"My cousin Bruno is a Wizard, too- a damn good curse breaker with the Ministry, in fact," he added. He squeezed into the chair Pansy was sitting in, pulling her up onto his lap without a thought and wrapping his arms around the teary-eyed woman. She gave him an affectionate look, leaning back against him.

"Draco," she said, "I asked you to come so I could tell you all this… and because I need a favor."

"Anything," he said forcefully, and Hermione looked at him, surprised. He seemed a little shaken, and she realized that this was very close to home for him. If their situation were switched… what would happen if the Marriage Law ended tomorrow, and for whatever reason Draco and her decided they didn't want to divorce? What would his mother do?

Probably nothing. Draco's mother, for all her faults, seemed to love her son very much. She wouldn't put him through what Pansy's parents and friend had put her through.

It was horrible. Now they knew what Pansy was running away from at the Ball- her parents. They must not have even known she was there…

Hermione couldn't even imagine the feeling of betrayal… how could a parent do something like this to their child? Then again, maybe in their own twisted way they thought what they were doing was best for her? Hermione was never so glad for her own loving parents, who would accept her no matter what…

So why had she still not told them about her marriage?

"I want you to help me find whoever wrote this book," Pansy said, standing up suddenly, walking over to a narrow bookshelf in the corner.

In her hands was a copy of "_Secrets of the Darkest Art_."

"Because the bastard has some explaining to do."


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Sorry! Ah, I totally spaced yesterday! I had to tutor a few extra classes, and then I had plans with friends and I had to take the train across the city... got too busy! So, two chapters today- sorry guys!_

**Chapter 26: The Writer**

Draco was in shock. Why did everything come down to that same horrible grotesque book? Why were the people around him into such _dark_ reading material?

Hermione looked very interested, now. She jumped off the couch, walking over to Pansy.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Relax, Granger, it's fake."

"I know it's fake. The question is, how did _you_ know it's fake?" Hermione asked, paging through the book as Pansy handed it over.

"I'm not stupid- that text is supposed to be hundreds of years old. Does that book look hundreds of years old to you?"

"It could be a reprint," Hermione suggested, prying for information.

Pansy raised her eyebrows. "You said you know it's fake- how do you know? Have you read the original?" She meant the last as a joke, and laughed derisively, but when Hermione didn't answer right away her eyes widened. "But… I didn't think any copies existed! How…?"

"Don't ask, because I'm not giving any answers," Hermione said, sitting back down on the couch with the book. Draco cringed as she passed an illustration of a man with snakes bursting from his eyes, screaming as a witch ate something that looked very much like a human heart in front of him. How could she calmly read with _that_ staring back at her?

Pansy was silent for a moment, then sighed. "There's a clue on the inside cover," Hermione flipped the book to the front. The inside cover was blank.

Hermione pulled out her wand and whispered, "Aparecium."

The hidden writing began to flow onto the page, and Draco leaned over to get a good look.

_Sanctimoma_

_To protect the righteous and __dwindle the target__._

_Vincet Semper_

_Death will always overcome._

Draco was shaking as he read the words. They sank deep inside him, though their meaning was obviously lost on Hermione, who squinted at the page.

"Latin?" she asked, a finger tapping her lip as she thought. "Purity… to protect the righteous and make the target small…. this must be referring to the fact that-" she stopped, abruptly, looking at Pansy. The girl was watching them both very carefully, her eyes narrowed.

"You can say it- I've already figured it out," she snapped, returning to her husband's side. She sat on the arm of the chair, glowering at Hermione. "The book says only muggle-borns will do for making a Horcrux. I have _read_ this fake book, Granger. I'm not stupid."

"Then how do you know it's fake?" Hermione asked for what felt like the millionth time.

"Because of the crest… oh, I'm sorry, you didn't catch that part?" she asked snidely.

Hermione gave her a blank look.

"The original was written by Owle Bullock.. Draco, care to explain why we know that this one was probably not written by a Bullock?"

Hermione turned her gaze to him, now, and he cleared his throat, trying not to look nervous. What would she say? How would she react?

Because he _knew_ who had written the fake book, now.

"The first part is about only muggle-borns being killed to make a Horcrux… Pansy is right. And the second part means "will always conquer." To have death always overcome, wouldn't that mean the opposite of a Horcrux, from what you've told me?"

Hermione nodded warily, still watching his face carefully. She knew something was up… she could read him too well, these days.

He cleared his throat again, looking about the room. It was nicely furnished, though quite small for Pansy's standards. He wondered how she was getting along here? And had her opinions changed as much as his did recently, since she loved her husband? How could she love him if she didn't think of him as her equal?

"Draco…" Hermione said, her tone a prelude to her frustration. Her eyes narrowed, now, but she was looking at him as if she had some clue, and didn't want it to be true. There was hope for a misunderstanding written all over her face.

He sighed. "It's the Malfoy family motto- it's on our crest. Purity will always conquer."

...

Hermione felt her mouth drop open. That meant the writer was…"A Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy," she guessed, her head spinning.

Why? Why would he _do_ that?

He had to have had some clue about Voldemort's Horcruxes, then. There was no way around it; he had a purpose in mind when he decided to lead people astray.

In a way, you could look at it and think he had noble intentions. He was narrowing the field, making it harder for someone to _attempt_ to make a Horcrux, and at the same time making it _impossible_ to do so.

On the other hand, the group he decided to target was no accident. Muggle-borns. There was hate involved in his writing.

All of these things flew through her head in the span of second, while she was looking at Draco's searching eyes, his mouth open as if to say something but lacking any words.

"Well," Hermione said finally. "Lucky for him, he's still safe in Azkaban, because eventually the Death Eaters are going to figure this out. _Pansy_ figured this out."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Pansy asked indignantly. Hermione ignored her.

Draco was shaking his head, looking at the ground, still silent.

"So," Hermione said, "what exactly do you want from us?"

Pansy snorted. "I just wanted confirmation that I was right- and since you both seem to agree, I guess I was. It's the whole reason for this mess- no one would be targeting Pietro if not for this stupid book. I could have just told my parents to fuck off, given up my inheritance, and run off happily into the metaphorical sunset. No one would be hunting us down."

Pietro shook his head, whispering something to the woman at his arm. She sighed, nodding. "Well… maybe my parents still would have tried to stop me somehow… but the Death Eaters wouldn't have had much interest in you."

"I wasn't here for the war- I was abroad," he explained. "These people should have no reason to target me, specifically."

"Unlike me," Hermione said with a frown. "But they probably wouldn't make it a priority if they didn't think they could work powerful magic by doing so."

"So what?" Draco said, finally talking, and everyone looked at him. He straightened, as if suddenly realizing he had spoken out loud. "If they had gotten their hands on a real copy of the book- and if my father made an incorrect copy, he _must_ have a real one somewhere- then they would still be killing people, right? Probably muggles, with the added bonus of making themselves invincible."

"I never said it was wrong of him to make the book," Hermione said softly, and Draco met her eyes sharply.

"You didn't have to say it! I'm sure his intentions were not completely pure…"

"No pun intended," Pansy murmured, smirking at her own joke.

Draco's eyes shot daggers her way, and she rolled her eyes as if she didn't care. "…but in the end we're lucky this book exists, or they would be out looking for the real one."

"I know, Draco. You don't need to tell us that…"

"Didn't your wife almost die?" Pietro interrupted, looking to Draco with a pointed stare.

Draco's clenched his fist, his lip curling up into a sneer. "How is that my father's fault? He wasn't there in that crowd- I believed it's been mentioned in this conversation that he's in prison."

"Draco…" Hermione said carefully. This was a rather delicate situation- on the one hand, Lucius could have just lied about killing anything human… anyone who did serious digging on a Horcrux knew it would require a life, but why not lie and say you have to kill a chicken? Obviously the current batch of Death Eaters were not the brightest bunch, since the fake book had fooled them so easily.

He knew what he was doing. In fact, most of the evidence about Voldemort using Horcruxes would have come _after_ he was dead, when people started wondering about Harry's theft of Hufflepuff's cup, the anger Voldemort no doubt displayed about the diary, and the unusual attachment he had to his snake. So there was a very real chance that Lucius made the decoy books in the summer before he was due in court. There were a lot of trials going on that summer, and Lucius was considered a low flight risk because of the Malfoy's betrayal of Voldemort. He had had time…

Which meant that he knew the Marriage Law was coming up. Draco's trial had been before Lucius'.

It was probably no coincidence that the Death Eaters would have easier access to many muggle-borns, at the same time that they found a fake book on Horcruxes demanded muggle-born sacrifices. If he wrote it, he expected muggle-borns to die.

On the other hand… this was Draco's father. How was she supposed to be as angry as she felt inside when it was clear that Draco cared about the man? What was she _supposed_ to say?

"No one should ever be able to make a Horcrux," Hermione said softly, trying to calm Draco down and focus their energy on something they could _do_ about the situation. "We need to find the real copy, if it's in the Manor, and destroy it. I don't know where he found it, but I doubt there are any more floating around. I thought I had had the only one, actually…"

"That's what I was hoping you'd say," Pansy said, surprising Hermione by _not_ using a snarky tone. "No sane person would want a big bad immortal Wizard running around. Also, no sane person would want to do that to themselves. Now, go, destroy an evil book, and come visit me sometimes. Neither of us can leave this house for long, and I get bored easily."

Pietro whispered in her ear again with a toothy grin, and she smirked. "Ok, I guess I won't get bored with _that_…"

Hermione tried not to make a face. Her evening had been very unpleasant, and she was more than happy to leave.

...

When the two left the night air smelled like rain, but none had fallen yet. Hermione liked that feeling, when the air seemed wet and cool around her. She rubbed her hands on her arms under her cloak, breathing deeply.

Draco walked ahead of her, heading for the front gate so they could apparate back to the Manor.

"Draco, wait." she called, and hurried to catch up with him. She grabbed at his arm and he pulled it away, his body tense."Hey, would you let me talk to you?"

"Why, so you can tell me some lie to make me feel better?" he snapped.

Hermione frowned at him, her hand still outstretched as if to touch him. "I won't…"

"Yes, you will. Just like those lies I told in there. Excuses. He holed himself in his study all summer before the damn trial- why didn't I see this coming? He was so fucking quick to agree to my plea bargain…"

Her blood ran cold as she realized what he was implying. "Oh, Draco, I don't think…"

"What?" he interrupted, whirling on her."You don't think he purposefully tried to murder you? You don't think he was involved in this whole plot? Granted, killing off a lot of other people he despised was just a bonus…"

"Draco, slow down…"

"But that's what you think, don't you?" his voice, so full of anger, suddenly dropped into something desperate and very nearly begging. He wanted her to contradict him, to tell him everything was alright.

She stared at him, trying to decide how to phrase her words. The rain started to fall lightly, and she pulled her cloak closer around her. "I think," she began, "that you are jumping to conclusions because you're stressed out."

He groaned, turning around and walking out the low gate.

"I'm serious!" She hurried after him. "No excuses- I think your father _meant_ for people to get hurt- but I don't think he was targeting me. How would that even make sense? If I was murdered, it would be you and your mother who would get the blame."

"Fantastic," Draco muttered. He didn't apparate- he just kept walking down the cobblestone path as the rain started falling heavier."So my father's just a passive-aggressive murderer of _strangers_, and not my wife. Let's throw a parade."

"Like you said, your father wasn't in that room that night. He wrote the book, but they're the ones who _used_ it. Intent is not the same as deed." And she meant it- Lucius was scum, but he wasn't to blame this time. Not really. Probably.

"Besides…" Hermione said, wondering if she was over-stepping her boundaries, "he's in Azkaban. He's not here to confront, so we have no way of knowing why he did what he did, or to what extent…"

"What the hell are you talking about, Hermione?"

"I- what? I wasn't being subtle…"

"No, I mean…" he stopped walking, facing her with a look of surprise. "Oh. You don't know."

"Don't know what?" Now she was starting to get frustrated, too. It was tiring, trying to make him feel better and still acknowledge that his father was an asshole.

"My father's sentence was the minimum- only one year."

Hermione was certain she had misheard. "What?" she asked, scrunching up her face and holding a hand to her ear.

"One year," Draco repeated. The rain was coming down harder, soaking their cloaks and making it hard to hear. If she wasn't distracted, she might have taken a moment to pull out her wand to protect them from the downpour. "He's coming home in August."

"But… but August is … now…" Hermione said, helplessly.

Draco nodded, looking grim. "Yes. Two weeks. I thought you knew that."

No, she most certainly had not! "But…"

Draco sighed, reaching a hand out to her. "Let's just go home," he said, looking up as if he just noticed the awful weather. She took his hand, feeling fazed by more than just the breathless feeling of apparition.

...

It was raining on Malfoy Manor, too, even though they were very far away from Pansy's Cottage in Scotland. They apparated directly to Hermione's parlor, dripping onto the hardwood floors. Hermione peeled off her soaked cloak, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a dry bed. She was completely _finished_ with today.

What was she going to do? Even if there _wasn't_ the slight chance Lucius wanted her dead, she didn't want to live in the same house as him. Narcissa was one thing- she had hinted that she had never wanted Draco to be a Death Eater, and for all her self-important snobbery she wasn't overtly cruel.

Lucius, however, was someone Hermione had heard quite a bit about- he had been there that night in the Ministry, when Sirius had died, too… he had tried to kill her and her friends, then. He had wanted his son to grow up to be a servant of Voldemort, a person filled with hate. Just like him. Hermione had seen that violent hatred many times as a student…

She shook her head. She needed to stop worrying; even if Lucius returned- er, when. When Lucius returned- it wasn't like she had anything to fear from him. He had as much to lose if something happened to her as anyone.

She looked at Draco. He had plopped his wet cloak to the floor and was drying himself off with his wand, short wet tendrils of hair still clinging to his face. He looked like a grumpy, pale, drowned cat.

What would he do when his father returned? How would he act? Would he still be as pleasant as he had been lately, or would everything rewind itself back to the beginning? It was no secret that Draco had always tried to impress his father- dating her was not going to accomplish that.

She sighed, pulling out her own wand and starting to dry her robes.

"Hey," Draco said, interrupting her work, "why are _you_ the one brooding, here?"

"Brooding?" she asked, pausing her drying spell long enough to give him a questioning look.

He stepped closer to her, and despite everything that had happened today she felt her heart race. Something about his wet hair, all disheveled and wild, made him look particularly sexy. She reached up, brushing a strand back, smiling. "I'm not brooding," she said. "You're the brooding type- not me."

"Bullshit," he muttered, but smiled at her anyways. His smiled looked a little forced, and she could tell he was trying to be playful and not make her worry. "We should look for the book," he added quietly.

"In the morning," Hermione said, yawning. "I'm tired, and it's not going anywhere, is it?"

"Wherever it is…"

She raised her wand at that, calling "Accio real _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ book!"

Nothing.

Draco shook his head, smirking. "You really thought that that would work?"

"It worked for me last time," she said with a sigh, and at Draco's inquisitive look added, "Dumbledore's office. The first book came to me… ah, nevermind. It didn't work, so we'll have to search the old fashioned way."

Draco nodded, and, still wet, he turned and started down the hall. "In the morning then. Goodnight," he said as he waved over his shoulder.

Hermione fought the urge to ask him to stay- the timing was bad. There were too many things weighing on both their minds… she would have liked him to stay to just sleep next to her, but asking him that seemed too _intimate_ somehow, more intimate than their escapades the previous night.

She gave a little wave in return, though he didn't see it, and called back, "Goodnight."

...

They found nothing the next morning as the two tore through his father's study. He had rarely even _been inside _the study before, and going through all those personal things- documents and odd charmed objects and books- was a very stressful event for Draco. Every drawer he opened seemed to be pulling him further away from the path he was meant to walk on, further from his heritage. It was like a betrayal, to snoop like this, and he didn't like it.

But if his father wrote that book, and meant for Hermione to die, he had to know. And they had to destroy the real book, to make sure no one ever read it again.

"Draco, what is this?" Hermione asked, raising up a small silver cube and frowning at it.

Okay, maybe they did find a few things. Just no book.

Draco jumped, coming across the room and smacking the object out of her hands abruptly. She jolted, shocked, and looked up at him from where she was crouched by an old filing cabinet. "That's dangerous!" Draco hissed. For whatever reason, he had kept his voice down the entire time they were in the room. He knew his father wasn't anywhere close, and yet the need to whisper was compulsive… maybe it was just natural to whisper when you're being a sneak?

Hermione blinked up at him, rubbing at her hand where he had hit it. "You could have just said that- I've never seen anything like it. What does it do?"

"If you hold it and tell a lie, it'll light you on fire," Draco answered shortly. It was almost as useful as Veratiserum, if you asked the right questions. He had never seen it light anyone on fire, but he had seen his father use it once before…

Suddenly, there was a knocking on the window, an angry-looking owl perched on the sill with a small scrap of paper tied hastily to its leg.

Hermione stood up and opened the window, taking the note. She stared, then stuck her head out of the window.

"What are you doing now?" Draco asked in a hurried whisper, coming up next to her.

From the study, one could see the front gates of the Manor. It was a distance away, but he could clearly see a shocking spot of long red hair in the distance.

"Ginny and Harry!" Hermione cried, making a mad dash for the door. "I'm horrible!"

Draco kept pace with her, running towards the front entrance. "Pray tell, why, exactly, are you 'horrible?'"

"I forgot to owl them that we got home last night! They were waiting for trouble! Harry said if I'm still alive, he's going to kill me!"

"… well then, yes, you are pretty horrible."

"Draco!" Hermione was seriously freaked out, and for some reason that lifted Draco's mood. "I was so tired… and I had other things on my mind… oh, I'm such an awful friend!"

She burst through the front door, running to the gate. Draco lagged behind, trying not to laugh at her panic.

"Hermione!" Potter called, sounding relieved as she slipped out the gate towards the couple. "You're alright!"

"Yes, I'm sorry…"

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" he continued, a hand to his forehead. Weasley nodded, hands on her hips.

"You tell her honey! We were up all night waiting for you! You're grounded!"

"It's not a joke- I was about to go to the Parkinson's and try to force some information from them!" Potter added, shaking his head at his friend.

"That… would not have been a good idea," Hermione said, but she threw her arms around Potter. "I promise I'll tell you both everything after work today, okay? I'll come by Grimmauld place around four, if it's alright…"

"Of course it's alright!" Weasley said, brightening. "We're babysitting later, and Harry's all nervous."

"What? Why would I be nervous?"

"Oh, please. You should see him," Weasley said, leaning in close to Hermione. "He went out and bought like a million toys and every kind of soft food a one year old could possibly want…"

"Well, we're watching him for the whole weekend."

Hermione smiled. "I'm sure his grandmother will send over plenty of supplies, but that's really cute Harry." She seemed to know exactly who they were talking about, though Draco was still in the dark. Did the older Weasleys have _another_ baby or something?

Harry shook his head. "Aren't we off subject here? I'm mad at you!"

"Oh, hello Draco!" Weasley said, finally acknowledging his presence. "Would you like to join us tonight? Teddy's your cousin, you know."

Draco didn't know what to say to that. Would he come off as an idiot or an uncaring jerk if he said he had no idea who that was? He would ask Hermione after her friends left.

He shook his head. "I'm busy. There's something I need to find. Hermione can tell you all about it…"

"Are you sure you don't want my help?" Hermione asked, looking surprised.

"Don't worry- go visit your friends. Like you said last night, it's not going anywhere…" Draco straightened his robes, nodding at Potter and Weasley. "If you don't mind, I'm going to head off to the Ministry, now." With a final nod at Hermione he disapperated.


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated! 3_

**Chapter 27: The Turn-On**

"She's pregnant!?" Ginny exclaimed, her jaw dropping.

Eight hours later, Hermione dropped by the Potter home, delighted to see the little Teddy Lupin in Harry's arms as they greeted her, the child's hair swimming from one color to the next in rapid succession.

"I think he just doesn't know how to turn it off," Harry had explained, raising the boy up to meet his eyes. "Do you?" he had asked, his voice going all soft and sugary.

Hermione smiled. Harry was going to make a great father one day.

Now Hermione and Ginny were talking, Harry listening in as he sat by Ted's high chair, feeding him squishy pears from a bowl.

"Yes- it's the real reason she's in hiding."

"Doesn't that free her from the Marriage Law?" Ginny asked, confused.

"Yes, but she doesn't want to be free from it, that's the thing- she loves him."

"Parkinson? We're talking about the same Slytherin, right?" Harry asked, incredulous.

Hermione smiled. "I know- trust me, I was shocked too. But it's true. She ran away from home because her parents were trying to have her husband killed. Zabini, too, when she went to him for help. She decided she could trust Draco with her secret, since… you know… me."

Ginny smirked. "You, what?"

"I'm… well, he's changed his opinion. Not in the same way that Pansy has," she added, glowering at her friend's huge smirk. "But Pansy saw in the Prophet that he saved me, and then he let me in on the address, which he didn't _have_ to do. She concluded that if he cared about me, then he could be trusted to be around her husband."

"Draco's her friend, so I guess it makes sense that she would want to see him…" Ginny started, and Harry snorted.

"What did she want?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Actually, she wanted to give us some information… here's where things get weird…"

Hermione explained, as simply as she could, why they were fairly certain Lucius Malfoy had written the book. She tried to keep her emotions out of her explanation, and just give the facts… but when she finally told her friends that Lucius was returning home in two weeks Harry stood up abruptly and Ginny gasped, a hand to her mouth in shock.

"But… but what if he _did_ try to have you killed?" Ginny asked, looking to Harry.

"Even if he didn't, he's a horrible person, and I wouldn't leave you alone with him for a second Hermione. Get out of that house before he gets home," Harry added, his brow drawn in concern.

Hermione folded her hands in her lap. "I can't. You know I can't."

Harry shook his head. "You have to. If Malfoy has an ounce of decency, he won't make you stay in the same house as his father."

"You don't understand… Draco's kinda…" How could she explain this? "He gets really defensive when his father is brought up. He's torn as it is- he's the one who suggested that my kidnapping might have been his father's fault, but he clearly didn't want to believe it. I just don't like seeing him so upset… I'm hoping that things will just work themselves out…"

"Work themselves out? Hermione, this is Lucius Malfoy we're talking about. And yeah, Draco's a little daddy's-boy, but if his illusions about his father break then it was bound to happen sometime. You say Draco's different- prove it. If Lucius isn't dangerous, then he's still a son-of-a…" Harry drifted, looking at the baby he was holding a spoon towards. Teddy was growing impatient, reaching for the stilled spoon in front of his face with tiny hands. "…unpleasant person," Harry finished.

Ginny nodded. "I agree- there's no reason the two of you have to stay at Malfoy Manor, is there?"

Hermione sighed, rubbing her face. "It's… Ginny, it feels like this is none of my business. I'm only Draco's wife in _name_, thanks to circumstances we couldn't help. I can't just ask him to move out of his childhood home… it seems too much like running away, like Pansy, and I don't like the idea of creating such a rift between him and his mother. This is his family and his problems, and I'm not really a part of it…"

"If you're wearing that ring," Harry said, pointing at her with the now-empty baby spoon, "then you're stuck with him and it's become your problem."

"Do you think Draco will find the book on his own?" Ginny asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Hermione frowned. "I half hope so, and I half hope not. We could be wrong about this whole thing- I mean, how obvious to put their family motto right on the book. Is he really that stupid?"

"Not everyone would know it's the family motto," Ginny pointed out. "It's not obvious, and most people would assume it just relates to the dark material in the book."

"Of course the Malfoy motto would sound like evil…" Harry muttered, and Hermione had to agree. It was disconcerting to say the least, for the family whose last name she shared to specifically mention in their crest that they don't want her.

"Hermione- we're serious about you leaving," Harry reiterated, and Ginny nodded. "Move in here if you ever don't have a place to go."

She pointed to her ring, and Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. _Him_ too… I suppose."

Something told her Draco would rather have that little silver box light him on fire than be roommates with Harry.

"Did something… happen?" Ginny asked, suddenly looking suspicious. "You seem awfully concerned with his feelings on this…"

"Uh… define 'happen,'" Hermione said as stealthily as she could, eyes flicking to Harry. "I mean… I'm allowed to tell you he's my boyfriend now. Does that qualify as "something?'"

"Your _boyfriend_?" Ginny asked with a snicker. "That sounds so completely ridiculous!"

"Well, it sorta puts this Marriage Law in its place then, doesn't it? My husband is my boyfriend…"

"How does that even happen?" Harry asked, looking like he'd rather be anywhere other than in the room with the two girls. "We're still talking about Malfoy here, right? Hermione… just because you don't have another choice right now doesn't mean you _have_ to-"

"Oh, hush!" Ginny said, waving her arm at him. "Just because you don't like him…"

"Who would? Even if he's done a couple of decent things in his life, he's still a spoilt, rude, racist little git."

"I just don't see him that way anymore," Hermione said, trying to explain. "Sometimes, people change."

"Sometimes," Harry agreed with a sigh.

Ginny grabbed her hand, suddenly, pulling her up off the sofa. "We're going for a walk!"

"Are we?"

"Yes. A girls-only walk."

Harry rolled his eyes, but looked genuinely relieved that they wouldn't be talking about Draco in front of him anymore. He picked Teddy up out of his high-chair. "Hear that, Ted? That means this is guys-only time. Let's go show you what a Golden Snitch is."

...

The moment they had stepped out of Grimmauld Place and onto the street, Ginny smirked. "I told you so."

"What?"

"You _slept_ with him, didn't you? And now you seem to be clicking. Hence, I told you so."

Hermione laughed. "That's exactly what I told him you'd say!" She sighed dramatically. "Oh, Ginny, you were right. I bow down to your "right-ness." Have you got anymore crazy little predictions? Wanna read my palm?"

Ginny paused, her eyes wide. "You didn't deny it! You _did_ sleep with him! When? How?"

"How?"

"Girl-time is about details, Hermione."

"Well, that's too bad."

"What, do you need an equal exchange if information? Cause the other night, Harry and I tried something new…"

"Do _not_ want to hear it!" Hermione said, covering her ears and narrowing her eyes at her friend. When had Ginny gotten to be so forward? She guessed being so popular in school helped, but geez…

Ginny laughed, slapping her on the back with a loud 'thump!' "Oh, you are so cute, Hermione. Come on, we're adults here."

_Cute_? There was that word again. Since when was having a sense of modesty such a source of amusement for everyone!?

"Fine," Hermione snapped. "It was after the ball…"

"Well, if you're going to have an attitude about it…"

"No, I just…" She sighed, rolling back her shoulders in an effort to relax. "I guess I just have a lot of stress lately. I still don't really know if Draco and I will work out, there's the whole bit with Lucius, and now I'm constantly being poked at for being '_cute_,' which I'm starting to feel is code for '_ignorant_.'"

"Constantly?" Ginny asked, cocking her head to the side. "Did I say it before? I don't remember…"

"No, Draco did. There was one detail I left out about our visit to Pansy's cottage…"

"Oh?"

"It's kind of embarrassing…."

"…oh?"

Hermione sighed. "We might have… well,_ I_ might have walked in on her and her husband in an intimate situation…"

Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Oh, gross. Poor, poor Hermione- I think that will come with some deep psychological scars, hmm?"

"But Draco didn't even seem fazed, and I assumed he'd seen her naked before, and he called me cute, and I felt like a fool…"

"That's a lot of 'and.' You can't worry about his past- and if you did, would that _really_ be the thing you would worry about most? His past sex life? I mean… _Death Eater_. Just saying." Ginny looped her arm through Hermione's as they walked. "And continue to be yourself- there's nothing wrong with being a prude! Really- if he doesn't like you for how you are, then he's an idiot."

Hermione sighed. "I still don't know how I feel about him, and I don't know if he loves me. I slept with him, and I don't know if he loves me…"

"If it's such a big deal to you, then why did you do it?" Ginny asked, curious.

"He… he was honest with me. And he said some things that gave me hope. He's got a way with words…" Remembering all that he had said that night made her face flush red, and she struggled to maintain her composure and not give away her unintentional double meaning…

"Oh?" Ginny said slyly.

Damn.

"So, you're saying he's good with his tongue?"

"How in the hell did you manage to twist _that_ so far?" Hermione asked, frankly amazed. She should have seen it coming- Ginny was in rare form with nosiness tonight, though secretly Hermione didn't think she wanted to keep this _all_ a secret… she liked having an ally to talk through her troubles with. Without Ginny, she might have felt guilty about her budding feelings for their former enemy.

"Don't… don't go telling Harry all this…"

"Of course not! Can you imagine? He doesn't even like the idea of you two being _friends_."

Hermione shook her head, smiling. "I felt that way too, at one point. But he told me that he respects me, and that's a world of change for him. If I don't have his love, I have his respect, and that's not so bad…"

Ginny smiled wide. "Can I tell you a secret, Hermione? Another prediction?"

"I suppose…"

"You're wrong- he already loves you, and one day he'll realize it."

…

Draco had had nothing to tell Hermione when she returned home that evening. He hadn't been able to find the real book, or even any further evidence that his father had _written_ the fake book.

"Let's be honest," Draco said, sitting down on her couch with a glass of brandy, "if my father was smart, he probably would've just buried it in the backyard or something. Who would leave something so important in an obvious place?"

Hermione smiled at that, saying "You'd be surprised…" but didn't elaborate. Draco frowned.

She really had a penchant for saying cryptic things.

There was so much he still didn't know…would he ever be privy to what actually happened during the war? Would she ever trust him enough to tell him about Horcruxes and what the hell the Elder Wand really was? He assumed, when he had seen Harry defeat Voldemort, that the reference was from that old fairy tale… but it couldn't really be _that_ wand, right?

He remembered when Harry had claimed that he, Draco, had been the rightful owner of the Elder Wand and shivered, recalling those snake-like eyes turning slowly towards him…

"So…" Hermione started, "on Monday, I assumed we'd have a busy Wednesday, so I asked for the day off… do you want to do something?"

Draco looked up at her. She was looking down at her own drink, swirling it casually. She hadn't drank any. "Me too, so sure." He was lying, but he really didn't care if he missed a day at the internship. He was fairly certain he was going to quit at the end of the week, anyways… he wasn't learning much, or making any connections in the ministry. It was a waste of time.

He'd much rather spend his time with his wife.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked casually. He was pretty surprised that she was asking him out somewhere this time… by all rights, she should still be completely freaked out from yesterday. He was still a little shaky himself, wondering what he would say to his father when he came home. 'Hey, so I was wondering if you wrote a misleading book that might have sent Death Eaters after my wife? You know, the muggle-born wife I'm currently dating?'

Right.

He shoved it back to the furthest reaches of his mind, and decided he'd deal with that bridge when he came to it.

"How about we go see a movie?" she asked. She seemed far too happy, as if the idea were somehow amusing. "Dinner and a movie. Like a real date."

"Real? A Charity Ball isn't real?"

"It doesn't fit the cliché as well."

"And this movie-thing does…?"

She laughed lightly, a hand to her face to try and stifle it. "Right- probably not your thing, huh? It's a big screen you watch a show on. It's kind of a muggle date, I suppose. It's summer, and good movies always come out in summer… we could do something else. I don't really care what we do."

She really seemed to mean it. She didn't care where they went, as long as they were together… he should take the same attitude, right? "Let's do it- let's go for your muggle date cliché."

"Really?" she asked, skeptical and a little guarded.

"Sure, why the hell not?" he was too far gone anyways. He was dating a muggle-born, his best friend was a disowned blood-traitor, and he was on speaking terms with _Potter_.

He would be meeting Hermione's parents for dinner this weekend- it couldn't hurt to see a little of the muggle world before that, anyways. Not that he had completely forgotten his misgivings; he was sure there would be at least one point on their date when he'd say something that would piss her off, but in the end, he had no reason to maintain his distance from the rest of the world any longer.

She lunged at him unexpectedly, her arms encircling his shoulders as she crawled onto his lap. He locked his own hands behind her, his arms around her waist. This was uncharacteristic behavior for Hermione, but definitely welcome.

She kissed his forehead, then pressed her own to it, smiling down at him. "I find your open-minded attitude quite a turn-on," she said matter-of-factly, her hand running through his hair and pulling his face forwards for a kiss.

She pressed her lips to his, and he let his hands wander over her back, feeling the curving dip of her body through her robes. She tasted sweet and sharp like peppermint gum, a contradiction to the brandy still coating his tongue.

"So," he said with a smirk when she parted their lips to take a breath, "if I start talking about sunnyglasses and shorts I just might get lucky?"

She didn't laugh- she pressed her lips back to his hurriedly, effectively shutting him up. Her legs moved to the sides of him, her weight pressing down pleasantly on his lap as she straddled him. His hands moved up her sides, catching on her robes and dragging at the fabric. He wanted to feel her soft milky skin against him, to see her blush when he whispered his intentions in her ear. He wanted to know every inch of her, again and again.

She pulled her lips away a second time, whispering, "Am I 'cute' now?"

He chuckled, his laughter making her bounce a little against him. "Is _that_ what this is about?"

She frowned, though to Draco it looked more like a pout… he had the urge to bite her bottom lip playfully, but restrained himself as she obviously had something to say. "I don't want you to laugh- I can't help that I'm awkward with all of this… I never had much practice, you know."

He chuckled again, then stopped at the look on her face. "I'm sorry- I'm not laughing at you. I told you I like it, didn't I? You're like… well, you're so smart, you know so much about the world, but when it comes to sex you're so…" he tried to think of a word that wouldn't offend her, since she was obviously feeling very touchy. "…innocent." He smirked, kissing her collarbone, which was level with his mouth as she sat on him. "I like it, because I get to be a bad influence on you." His mouth trailed up to her neck, his tongue lapping over the soft spot where it met her shoulder in a way he knew should make her shiver. "You're no one else's_- you're all mine_, Hermione. I think that's very sexy…"

She seemed to like his answer, grinding down on his quickly hardening cock through his pants, making the last few words out of his mouth slur together with a groan. His head fell back and his eyes closed as she repeated the action, and he made a small sound of approval. She whispered in his ear as she made the same circular motion with her hips a third time, "So, you're going to teach me? Show me what you like, Draco…"

Her words were like a firecracker going off in his head, and his heart began to pound in anticipation. Again, he knew he had to be careful with this one- he walked a fine line with her, between embarrassing her and making her want him more. As it was, she looked like she couldn't believe what she had said, a fine brush of pink gracing her cheeks as she looked down at him.

She was shy. She needed him to be in control.

He reached down between them and undid the top button of his slacks, watching her face as he worked to free himself from the constrictive fabric. She looked a little nervous when he finally succeeded, his now fully erect manhood standing between them obviously. She stared down it, then back at him. Slowly, unsure, she reached down to him and wrapped her delicate hand around his throbbing flesh.

He let his approval be known with a rush of air from his lungs, coming out of his mouth as a hum of pleasure. He closed his eyes as she moved her hand a little, testing, over the smooth skin.

Then, all at once, her hand was gone. He opened his eyes as he watched her get off of him, his disappointment evident on his face. Had he managed to scare her off that easily?

And then, she sat down again in a place that wiped the frown right off his face- on her knees, at his feet, her hands resting on his thighs as she bite her lower lip nervously. His eyes widened, and he groped for the right words- he certainly hadn't been expecting _this_. "You… you don't have to…"

"Shut up," she answered, not meeting his eyes. Her face was quickly turning all sorts of funny shades of pink as she reached out again, touching him. She leaned forward, and very slowly let her tongue drag across the tip, tasting him. The sight of that wet pink tongue against his flesh almost undid him- he couldn't help buckling his hips up, his hand tangling in her hair at the back of her head.

At his reaction, she grew bolder, her lips wrapping around the engorged end of his member, her tongue lapping at him as she started to take him into her mouth.

"Ah! Fuck… Hermione…" he managed, amazed. For someone so shy, once she got going she was incredible! Her warm mouth enveloped him, her head bobbing with her administrations, and his fist clenched tightly in her hair as he gasped. Too much, it was too much…

All at once she pulled away, looking up at him, and he had to fight the urge to push her head back down. Damn- was she trying to drive him crazy?

"Stop that," she said, her mouth set in a little frown.

"W… what?"

"Your hand. It hurts."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, letting her hair loose quickly. "Sorry…"

She shook her head, her lips curling up. "Don't be sorry- just be careful…"

He nodded, his wide eyes still following her movements as she lowered her head once more, taking him into her mouth. She bobbed down about halfway, then back up, again and again, her warm tongue sliding around deliciously… Draco grabbed one of her hands, placing it at the base of his shaft to hold what she wasn't able to take into her mouth. He panted, trying not to buck up to meet her downward motions. She wouldn't like that- she might stop to admonish him again. And he didn't want her to stop.

As her slick mouth moved over him, she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him. Meeting her eyes while watching those soft pink lips parted around him was what finally pushed him over the edge.

He touched her shoulder, and with a gasping breath managed to say, "Move."

She did as she was told, moving her mouth away from him but keeping her hand in place. She slid the hand upwards once, and he came in the same instant, hissing out a deep breath as he found his release.

God, she was perfect. He still couldn't believe she had done that- it really hadn't been his intention to lead the night in that particular direction, but he was pleased none-the-less. He looked down at her… she was still on her knee's in between his legs, one messy hand raised up carefully away from their clothes. She pulled her wand from her robes with her other hand, cleaning up the mess he had made with a wave.

With a breathy voice, her hands placed lightly on his thighs, she looked up and asked, "How was that?"

No more words would come out of him. He was overcome with the urge to make her scream with pleasure, to watch her writhe beneath him as she came, again and again. He wanted to tear her clothing off, to drink her up, to kiss every inch of her and sing her praises. This woman was everything he wanted- he never wanted to leave her warm presence again.

He reached one long leg out towards the coffee table behind her, placed his shoe against it, and kicked- _hard_- making it skid and fall over several feet away on the hard wood floor. Hermione jumped at the loud sound and gasped, looking over her shoulder at the fallen furniture. Draco used her momentary distraction to pounce, laying her flat on the floor in the spot where the table had once taken up too much room. He attacked her neck, nipping lightly, licking each spot afterwards as he fumbled for his wand. These would be one more pair of robes he would owe her- he'd have to go to the tailor later.

He cast his botched disrobing spell, knowing there was no way he could be careful and get her clothes off as quickly as possible. Her robes tore up at the front, following the motion of his wand, from the bottom up to the top. Only her sleeves remained intact, the rest falling below her like a blanket on the hard floor.

"Draco!" Hermione said, her voice wispy and breathless with need, but still somehow reprimanding. "Those are-"

"Shut up," he said, mimicking her words from earlier with much more force. "Shut up, and let me show you something nice…"

He dragged his tongue against her collarbone, moving over her pert breasts. He swirled it around the tips, his mouth covering as much of her breast as he could. He let his hands wander over her body, up her sides and finally resting on her breasts as he moved down, lapping and kissing her stomach. She squirmed under him, his fingers rubbing her soft pink nipples and pinching lightly as he continued to move downward. He removed one hand for balance as he finally reached his destination, and cast a look up at Hermione to gauge her reaction, first.

She was balance up on her elbows, a few inches off the ground, the last shreds of her robe still tangled in her limbs. She was breathing heavy, and the look on her face was surprise and impatience all at once. That's all he needed to see. He cast her a devilish smirk, and she seemed to melt just from that look, her eyes becoming unfocused and clouded as a small sound of anticipation came from the back of her throat.

She wanted him- bad. He was tempted to make her wait, to torment her a little… but he didn't feel especially patient when her sweet smooth body was lain bare before him, her legs still loosely together like a present waiting to be unwrapped.

He touched her knee, bringing his hand slowly up her thigh, pushing lightly so she would get the hint. If he were the poetic sort, he might say she was like a pale pink flower opening to his gaze, but as it was he couldn't even formulate coherent thoughts... he just wanted to touch her as soon as possible, his mouth working kisses down her thigh, following the path his hand had made. He leaned over and pressed his mouth very precisely over the small nub of flesh near the front of her delicate folds, eliciting an incredible, very encouraging moan from his wife. He started slow, touching the space just in front of the nub with his tongue, licking at her gently as he watched her excitement build. When he thought it was time, he swirling his tongue over the pink nub directly, and sucked it, and licked it, and applied pressure to it with his tongue… he lavished it with his full attention, enjoying how her hips wiggled and her moans deepened as he worked.

One of her hands weaved into his hair, pressing down on the back of his head, and he let her push him tighter against her, his mouth working tirelessly at his task.

Her sounds of pleasure grew more frequent as he pushed a single finger into her, his mouth still pressed to her wet center. He crooked the finger slightly, looking for the right spot…

She cried out, and he knew he had it right. He made sure to hit that spot, moving just the one finger in and out as he lapped at her- he knew it wouldn't be too much longer. She was making it perfectly clear how close she was, whispering nonsensical words in between her pants and moans.

"Draco…mmm…ah…just…ah! Please…"

He found that spot one last time, and felt her grow tight around his finger, her inner walls clamping as she climaxed. He gave her one last lick and looked up, feeling particularly smug at the way she quivered still, one fist above her head gripping her tattered robes tightly, her eyes open to slits as she watched him.

He crawled back up her body, wiping at his mouth. Her eyes followed his movements carefully, her hands moving to touch his chest and cling to the fabric on his still-clothed body.

"That was…" She shook her head, blinking at him as if in shock.

He smirked. "No words to describe just how amazing I am?"

She shook her head, returning his sordid smile. "I didn't know it was possible to do _that much_… with just your mouth."

He laughed, then, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "Anytime- you just say the word, and we'll find a way to make you feel like that again…"


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: I actually thought of adding in a line about Hermione using the contraceptive spell the last time the two got it on, but I restrained myself because it just seemed to break up the flow. Hermione is smart- she will continue to practice safe sex. Even if it isn't written, you can assume that she remembers to cast the spell before it's too late.  
><em>

**Chapter 28: The Rambling**

They slept in their own beds, much to Hermione's chagrin. Her own shyness to express her desires was working against her- once again, she couldn't bring herself to say "stay."

She understood why she desired him sexually- she may have missed it before, when he was just that arrogant prat at Hogwarts, but lately she had opened her eyes to see his attractive features. His silky hair, his slim, long body, his sharp, knowing eyes… and then in terms of skill in bed… well, Hermione didn't have much experience, but she had never heard in any of her 7th year dorm-mate's gossip about orgasming every single time they were with a man.

And she had certainly never guessed Draco Malfoy would be so damn willing to go down on her. She knew about oral sex, of course, but he just didn't come across as the kind of guy who would be into that- it seemed like a modern thing to Hermione, and Draco was definitely not modern. But maybe she was just showing her ignorance, again?

She blushed at the memories of her evening, pulling her blankets tight around her. She couldn't seem to fall asleep.

So, her attraction to him made sense to her- but why did she miss his warm body next to her? Was it something about the sex itself that made her feel so lonely afterwards when he didn't stay? He was just across the house, and the two would spend the whole day together tomorrow. She shouldn't feel lonely or neglected by him.

Did he not _want_ to spend the night with her?

Maybe his feelings for her really were simpler than Ginny seemed to think. Maybe he cared for her like one would care for any friend… and the sex was just a bonus, in his mind. Had she made a mistake, sleeping with him before he had sorted these feelings out? Before she had sorted out her own feelings towards him?

She sighed, rolling over and bringing the pillow up and over her head.

Why wouldn't her brain be quiet so she could sleep? Why couldn't she get him out of her mind? She just kept thinking of those cloudy silver eyes when he was considering their date tomorrow. She had seen the moment when he had thrown away any objections he might have had, and his eyes almost seemed to smile even though his mouth was carefully straight. He wanted to make her happy- his eyes told that story.

She tossed and turned. There wasn't even a hint of his scent left over on her sheets or pillow- the house elves changed them daily, she suspected.

Finally, she just went to the potions room and got some sleeping drought, knowing she had to be rested for tomorrow. Based on previous experiences with Wizards who were not used to muggle things, she had a feeling their date would be exhausting… though perhaps illuminating.

...

Draco tried to be completely calm next to the screaming blurs of cars and the bustling crowds of muggles. Like everyone else who attended Hogwarts, he had been to London before, of course, to catch the train. But a hurried trip straight to platform 9 ¾ accompanied by his parents was a very different thing from the leisurely stroll down the street he was taking with Hermione. She had wanted to bring him to a theater by her old house after eating at her favorite Italian place… this was her idea, so he just went with the flow and let her drag him around.

The restaurant had not been very fancy, and he was horrified when it came down to paying the check -he had not even spared a thought on obtaining muggle money for the evening. Hermione paid for everything on a little plastic card she assured him contained money, and he wondered at how such a thing could be possible.

He wondered if he should offer to pay her back? Or was it one of her independent-muggle things and she would be offended if he suggested it? He knew she had money, but it couldn't be that much, if the star rating advertised on the restaurant was any indication.

When they got to the movie theater, the place was thick with the smell of buttered popcorn, which Hermione assured him was perfectly normal. She ended up spending more plastic money on muggle snacks than the movie, which Draco didn't quite understand since the snacks didn't do anything- they didn't sing, they didn't change color or jump. They just sat there, and tasted like what the box said they would taste like. None of them even tried to bite you back, which didn't exactly seem like a _bad point_ to Draco but it was still curious for the price.

The movie itself was not nearly as impressive as Hermione seemed to think it would be- it was basically just like a regular Wizard play, but with "special effects" instead of magic. Oh, and everything was flat.

Hermione had been acting jumpy all night, like she expected at any moment he was going to declare that _this_ was the last straw and walk away. He was a little annoyed that all of these things he had used to think were beneath him made him feel ignorant, now. There were times when he would ask a question that seemed perfectly logical, and she would feel the need to giggle before she answered him, hurrying to stifle her laughter. It was annoying.

"Was this how you felt coming to Diagon Alley the first time?" Draco asked, curious, as they left the theater.

Hermione shook her head. "No, I was given a book when I was told what I was. _Hogwarts, a History_. I read it, and really it changed my life. It taught me what kind of things I should expect in the Wizarding world- I was still amazed, of course, but I was able to fake my way through acting natural pretty easily until I could get my hands on more books…"

The worst of it was the clothes she put him in- she told him he could wear his slacks, but forced him into some shirt with barely any sleeves made out of a cheap, soft material that wrinkled at his hips like it didn't fit. She assured him it did fit- T-shirts were supposed to be comfortable and looser on guys, usually. He didn't like anything about it. He felt like he was at war with the shirt all night- he didn't like how exposed it made his arms feel, and every time he passed anything reflective he grimaced at the way it made him look. If his mother saw him in it she would have a fit.

For the sixth time that night he glared at a passing window, and Hermione sighed. "I was in a hurry- it's the first thing I saw that was in my price range."

"You're a terrible liar. You just wanted to get me into the most abhorrent muggle clothing possible."

"Maybe I thought you would like it."

"Maybe _you're_ trying to pick a fight," he countered, swiping down the front of his shirt as if he could brush out the natural wrinkling of the stretchy material.

She laughed, again, and he was once again left wondering what he had said that was so funny.

"I'm sorry," she said finally. "You're just… cute?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, knowing full well what she was throwing back in his face. Though, really, she looked a little apologetic as she said it. She obviously didn't mean any harm, but this date was still extremely annoying. He didn't like feeling stupid, especially about such irrelevant things as plastic money and boring snacks.

She shook her head. "I didn't mean to make you upset with this- if you don't like this kind of thing, we don't have to…"

"I'm fine. Stop worrying. There is only one thing I legitimately complained about all evening, and that's this horrible shirt. No, I don't like being confused by things, and I have zero experience around muggles, but I'm not running, so quite acting so concerned."

She gave him a strange look at that, and for a moment he wondered if he had said something that she didn't like. Then she smiled and nodded, conceding defeat. "You're right- I guess I just somehow expected you to tell me enough was enough… you should have seen your face when I told you I had money on my visa. It was part amusing, part scary."

Scary? Had he looked like he wanted to bolt? He shook his head, sighing. "Look," he said, pointing across the street. "An ice cream parlor. Something we can both agree is perfectly normal."

Hermione grinned, grabbing his arm as they waited for the light to cross the street.

…

He did it. He put in his resignation, and even finished his last day at work instead of just jumping ship and going home.

Ugh. What was he going to tell Hermione? Could he keep it a secret? After all, she would be gone at her own apprenticeship all day- it wasn't like she would find out where he was spending his time.

He groaned, shuffling through the last file-storage room he knew of in the Mansion. He still hadn't found that damn book, though he had been looking alone all afternoon. He didn't really want Hermione digging around too much- she could find something dangerous. Despite her rather surprising past reading materials, she knew very little about the majority of dark magic objects. Plus, many such objects that survived Ministry raids were set with traps for anyone other than a pure-blood. He would have to find the book by himself.

Which he was beginning to feel was a fruitless task. The book wasn't here. He had managed to unearth an enchanted dagger, three bottles of poison, a pouch of ground bone that Draco hoped wasn't human, and a rebellious quill that kept trying to stab him. He locked the last back in its filing cabinet, hearing the faint "tap tap" of it fluttering about.

Just the usual dark objects. Nothing like a book on murderous, soul-splitting magic.

He sighed, dusting his pants with a sweep of his hands as he stood up. He should find Hermione, and give her an update.

On his search, not on his internship-quitting.

He walked hurriedly to her side of the Mansion. There was no door, no specific line that marked "her's" from the rest of the building, and Draco always felt a little awkward. Should he knock on the wall, or something? He was sure that at this point in their relationship, she wouldn't mind the intrusion, but at the same time he was still wary of making her angry with him.

He liked getting along with her. He liked seeing her happy.

He peaked into her sun-room, his hand raised to knock playfully at the open archway, and he saw that she wasn't there. The room was dark, the last rays of the setting sun just barely making the garden out back visible.

What time was it? Eight? Could she have visited her friends today?

He frowned, feeling slightly disappointed.

As he backtracked, he paused at the door to her room. She would probably not be happy with him for rooting through her personal space… but he wanted to see if she was home. He opened her door.

The bed was neatly made- no Hermione.

He shouldn't worry. She was probably with the Potters. If she were in trouble, she had a pretty clear way of letting him know. He rubbed his arm, remembering. The rings were truly horrible things- worse than most of the Dark Magic objects he had dug up this afternoon. What right did the Ministry have to inflict that kind of pain on them?

He headed off to his own bedroom, deciding that he would check in on her in the morning- just in case.

...

"You know, I don't usually drink…" she had said.

"It's my birthday! We're doing what I want!" Ginny had replied, grinning.

True, it was Ginny's birthday. Technically. They were having an actual party on Sunday at the Burrow, but right now it was Friday night and Ginny had been waiting for her after work. She wasn't really the "partying" type, and she wasn't aware Ginny was, either.

"Come on, you're my only real girl-friend! I want to see what a muggle club is like, and run amok! Isn't that what girls our age should be doing? I mean, on their _birthdays_?"

Hermione had had no choice but to agree, allowing herself to be dragged off. Harry hadn't made this much fuss over his birthday a couple weeks ago- but then, Ginny seemed to be growing more and more eccentric following life at Hogwarts.

And that's how she found herself, comfortable only thanks to the large amount of liquor ingested, in a place with loud music, loud dancing, and loud lights flicking all over the place. Ginny had even conjured up (literally) two fake ID's when Hermione told her the legal age for such places was generally 21.

Ginny sighed, cupping her hands over Hermione's ears so she could yell/whisper, "This is waaaaaay boring."

"This was your idea!" Hermione all but screamed back, trying to talk over the noise.

"But it looks so _cool_ on the television Harry put in our house!" Ginny called, cocking her head to the side in thought. "Though I guess it would be more of a place for single girls, huh?"

The two had danced a little, though that was hardly Hermione's forte. The drinks, at least, were fruity and sweet, and so the two had basically been sitting in a corner knocking them back for the past… how long? An hour? Maybe?

"We could go somewhere else…."

"Where?"

"I don't know- it's _your_ birthday! If you have a TV at home, we could rent a movie."

Ginny sighed, downing the last of her neon-green apple-tini. "Alright- sounds like a plan. But let's make it a movie that doesn't give me any more false hopes about muggle group outings- though the drinks weren't terrible."

Hermione laughed, leading her friend out towards the exit after settling the bill. Her funds were getting a tad bit low lately… she needed to be more careful how she spent her money until her apprenticeship was finished and she got a real job.

The two walked down the street, Hermione trying to remember where there was a video rental place. They were both a tad bit more giggly than usual, and it suddenly struck Hermione, in the midst of laughing at Ginny's new twisted sense of humor, that it probably wasn't a good idea for the two of them to be walking around plastered. Not with Death Eaters on the loose… though if anyone was going to look for Hermione, they would never think to start anywhere near a club in the middle of the night.

With that thought in mind, Hermione hurried them to a video store, keeping with the crowds of people as a safety precaution. They were just about to choose "The Wizard of Oz" (after a rather lengthy explanation to Ginny, who found the plot hilarious), when Hermione happened to glance up at the clock with slightly blurry drunk-vision.

She really couldn't hold her liquor. Did the clock say it was almost eleven, or almost twelve?

"Uh, Ginny…" She managed, pointing at the wall clock.

Ginny stared, then with a great sigh grabbed the DVD from Hermione's hands. "I'll go finish my birthday fun with my husband- I forgot that you turn into a pumpkin at midnight."

Yep. Definitely almost midnight. In fact-

Suddenly, everything around her lurched forward, throwing her through a blurry wave of colors. She was amazed she was able to hold down her drinks, moving so rapidly as her ring pulled her home, depositing her roughly in a crumpled heap on the floor.

...

He jolted straight up in bed, instantly awake, as he heard a strange howling wind followed by the loud, thumping sound of a body smacking into the floor of his bedroom. She cried out, surprised, as she fell to the floor, and she didn't stand up immediately afterwards.

She groaned.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Draco asked, sliding out of his bad and kneeling down next to her on the floor.

"Uuuugh…" she managed, holding her stomach. "I should really learn to keep better track of time… that… jostled things around a bit more than I expected."

She was dressed in muggle clothing with high heels, a bag thrown around her shoulder and the smell of alcohol coming off her breathe. He stared- it was certainly a unique picture for the prudish bookworm.

"Ginny… birthday…" she muttered, still leaning over.

"Are you… going to be sick?" Draco felt the need to ask, and Hermione shook her head.

"Just give me a second. I'm fine… totally… fine…"

"Well, that'll teach you to drink and use a portkey," Draco muttered, not sure if he should find the situation as funny as he did. Where exactly had the red-head dragged her off to? How had she completely forgotten about her curfew?

"I hate these damn rings…" Hermione murmured, finally throwing back her head and looking up at Draco. He was looming over her, one hand touching her shoulder. "Damn lucky Ginny… she didn't have to worry about this crap. She's watching Dorothy go down the yellow brick road by now while I'm trying not to pass out on my boyfriend's hardwood floor."

Draco had no idea what she was talking about, and rolled his eyes. "It's your own fault for forgetting the time… you know, if I went with you you wouldn't have had to worry. It just ports you to me."

Hermione waved a flopping hand in front of her, waving him off. "Yeah, but Ginny insisted on a girl's night out… been watching too much trashy TV… wanted to see a nightclub, so that's where we went, and I said I don't usually drink, but I did, and by the end there were so many lovely little umbrellas littering the table we could have started a shop."

Draco smirked. "You know we're meeting your parents for brunch, right? That was the plan? Tomorrow?"

"Ah!" She smacked her forehead with her palm, closing her eyes tight. "Crap. I didn't think I would drink so much."

"Well, we'll get you a potion for the hangover you'll no doubt be nursing in the morning, but for now you should probably get some sleep."

"Got it. Yes, sleep would be good. Sleep would be best, right now…" She took a deep breath, then stood up abruptly, Draco following her movement. She seemed like she would be completely okay for a few seconds, and then all of a sudden she reached up and touched her head, tilting to the side.

Draco grabbed her, throwing an arm around her waist and sighing. Drinking plus porting was very, very not-smart.

She leaned on him heavily, her face red. "Sorry…" she muttered, "Can I just sleep here? Apparating sounds awful and walking back sounds dangerous."

Draco snorted. "Of course you're staying here. Get in the bed."

She just stared at him for a moment before nodding, pushing away from his support and plopping down on his plush comforter. She slipped off her heels, letting them plop to the ground, as she slid under the covers. She curled into a ball, hugging the pillow but keeping her eyes open.

"Thanks," she said simply, still watching him.

He moved around the bed, crawling in next to her. She flipped over, facing him.

"What?" he asked, wondering at the strange almost investigative look she was giving him.

"Why don't we always do this? Why don't you just stay with me at night?" she asked, her words a little slurred together but still very clear to Draco's ears.

He raised his eyebrows. Definitely too much to drink. "What are you talking about?" he tried, rolling onto his back to look up at the canopy.

"It's weird, right? I know it's weird… but after that one time, you stayed with me, and I really liked it. I like having you here…" she muttered, her eyes starting to flutter as she draped an arm over his chest. "You're warm."

He shook his head, smiling to himself in the darkness. "You're a rambling kind of drunk, aren't you?"

He looked over, and saw that she had already fallen asleep.

...

_A/N: Yes, I skipped a lot of birthdays. Draco, Harry... I just didn't think they were that important to the plot. Let's just say Draco and Hermione were not very close during his birthday, and Harry preferred a more "private" night out with his wife. There. Problem solved. XD_


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Some of you were annoyed abut the "fake IDs" thing. I'm aware that the drinking age is 18. I did a bit of research before writing that, and most clubs in London are 21+... though the actual carding is pretty lax. I think Hermione would want to be extra careful, though._

**Chapter 29: The Word Hanging Between Them**

"Hey, come on. Wake up. Drink this," said that horrible, annoying voice for the third time. She swatted at the air in front of her, hoping against hope that she would connect with whatever _monster_ was making so much noise.

"Watch it!" the voice said, and all at once Hermione felt something cold and wet cover her face. She sputtered, sitting up in bed and wiping at the water.

"What the hell!?" she yelled, glaring daggers up at the boy who's wand was outstretched. "You cast aquamenti at me? _Really_?"

Draco looked less than remorseful. "You asked me to come along with you today, then you get yourself plastered, and then, finally, you act like a lunatic when I try to wake you up. Hence- aquamenti."

Hermione glowered, grabbing the potion Draco was holding roughly as she made a noise that, in retrospect, she realized sounded very much like a bear. "Ass," she muttered, popping the cork and chugging down the contents hurriedly.

All at once, the sunlight wasn't so piercing, and Draco's presence wasn't so annoying. In fact, Hermione suspected that this hangover potion included some nice calming elements, too, because she instantly felt like a new, refreshed person. She blinked, looking up at Draco with wide eyes. "Uh… sorry?" she tried, feeling sheepish.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Feeling better? Good. Then go get dressed. I'll meet you at the front gate."

She looked around her, confused at being in Draco's room. That's right- she slept in his bed last night. She was rambling on about liking him being near her, or something… oh, what did she say? Did she say anything embarrassing? Her train of thought had been all over the place, so it was hard for her to pierce it all together the morning after.

She put a hand to her head. "We… didn't do anything, did we? Last night?" She had to ask. She was pretty sure she had just fallen asleep, but if she was mistaken then she needed to cast a contraceptive spell before long.

Draco snorted. "Hardly. You were far too drunk for anything fun."

She smiled at him, standing. "Right… well, I'll see you at the front gate." What she wanted to say was 'There's always tonight,' but she didn't feel bold enough for that. Still… it was the weekend, and she wanted as much time alone with him as possible before everything inevitably blew to hell.

Next week. His father would be released next week.

She apparated to her own room, trying to pick out nice muggle clothes to meet her parents in.

...

Draco was wearing wizard clothing, but had skipped the robes and chosen a very dated, but passable, white button-up shirt. It could pass as muggle, though it would look a little silly or flashy on the streets of London with the slightly ruffled sleeves and the collar that was just a little… different. Hermione just smiled- he had tried, and she'd learned long ago not to mention to a wizard trying to look like a muggle that he was at fault.

Besides, her parents knew he was a wizard. Who cared what anyone else thought?

"You're not getting me into that T-shirt again," he aid, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

She shook her head. "No, sir," she replied with a grin. "It didn't suit you and anyways, it's not really 'brunch with the parents' wear."

Draco nodded. If he was nervous at all, he didn't look it. Again, Hermione tried to remember what she had told her parents about him in the past… she may have mentioned his rivalry with Harry on the Quidditch field. And maybe the time she hit him? Did she tell them about his derogatory word for her?

Oh, this brunch could be very, very uncomfortable.

Even so, she liked Draco. She didn't want to keep every part of her life a secret from them, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her secret about the Marriage Law would come out. They would hear it from someone, at some point, and at the very least it would be good if they knew Draco before that happened. Maybe if they saw she was happy with him, they wouldn't completely freak out over the fact that she was forcibly married.

As the two approached the little restaurant for brunch, she grabbed Draco's hand impulsively. "Listen," she started, "we're dating. We're not married, okay? Don't mention it."

"I'm not a moron- you said that before."

"Really…" she said, looking up at him with pained eyes. "I want them to like you. If they find out about the Marriage Law and all the grisly details about how we ended up a couple, they might get very, very upset."

Draco sighed. "I know. I understand. But really… why would you keep them in the dark so long about something as big as that? Maybe if you had eased them into it when the Prophet started printing articles…"

"_I _had a month to '_ease into it_,' and trust me, it didn't help," she reminded him, checking her hair in the window before they entered the place. It was a mess- as usual.

In truth, maybe she was just scared. Would they be angry with her, keeping it a secret? Would they be angry at her if she had told them right away, too? She had chosen to stay- she could have given up her wand and gone through life without magic… that way, she wouldn't have had to participate in the law. She had made a choice, in a way… though what choice had it really been? To live without her magic would be the end of the world for Hermione. Her parents might not be able to understand that.

The two entered the restaurant, and sure enough her parents were already there. Hermione was the punctual type, but her parents still always seemed to arrive in places before her when they met up.

Her father waved them over, and Hermione, still gripping Draco's hand, walked over and sat down across from her parents. Draco seemed rather calm- he had that blank mask on again as he surveyed the restaurant, pausing for a second on a family a couple tables down. The pre-teen son was being obnoxious, playing some loud game on a hand-held device and refusing to put it away in an all-out battle with his parents.

"It's nice to see you again, Draco," Hermione's mom said with a smile and a nod.

"Yes. Nice to see you again, too, Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger." He reached out a hand, shaking both of theirs.

He was calm, and smooth, and bordering on friendly. The only hint Hermione had that he was at all uncomfortable was the blankness in his eyes that he had seemed to perfect. He was very good at acting in a way that suited whatever situation he found himself in, and right now he was playing the part of the completely normal boyfriend.

Everything seemed like it would go alright. Hopefully her parents would ask only a limited number of tricky questions, like 'How did this happen?' or 'How long have you two been dating?' or 'What are your intentions with our daughter?'

Those kinds of questions had complicated answers. Should she have mentioned to Draco that the fact they were living together should also be kept quiet?

In the end, her worrying about what Draco might _say_ was completely useless. Because there was one very important detail she had overlooked.

"Well, Draco…. it was Draco, right?" her father asked. Draco gave her a sideways look, and she shrugged. His name might have been a tad bit strange in the muggle world... but her father had a strange mocking lilt to his voice. Like he was covering up his real feelings with a syrupy tone."…I thought we were meeting our daughter's new boyfriend here today. So I have just one question for you- why, exactly, are you wearing a wedding ring?"

...

Draco tried not to let any emotion slip onto his face, but Hermione was, as usual, an open book of feelings. Her jaw dropped, and her expression and words were just so obviously guilty Draco had to fight the urge to slap a hand over her mouth.

"That is… it's not… we just… um… came from a costume party?"

Draco turned his head mechanically to give her an icy stare. Really? Was she actually _this bad_ at lying?

She glared back at him in turn. Finally, after her statement was met with complete and utter silence, she sighed heavily. "Why the hell didn't you cast a glamour!?" she hissed in a low, but still clearly audible, voice.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You didn't mention that I should."

"You told me you _weren't_ a moron!"

"I'm sorry- are you trying to insult _me_ right now? This is hardly my fault."

"It is _entirely_ your fault!"

"What? That you're acting incredibly suspicious right now with your parents sitting across from us?"

Jerkily, with wide terrified eyes, Hermione turned her head back towards her parents. Her mother looked incredibly confused, her eyebrows drawn in thought as she stared at her daughter. Her father, however, looked positively furious. Draco wasn't sure what, exactly, the man was thinking- it was clear he blamed Draco for whatever it was though, based on his glaring sharp eyes.

"What exactly are you trying to pull, here?" her father said, keeping his voice low in the crowded restaurant, but still full of venom. "If you're married, you have no business with our daughter."

Oh. He was going in _that_ direction with this. Draco supposed that made some sense. He turned his head to Hermione questioningly, raising an eyebrow. What did she want him to say? He could lie, and say that that was exactly it. It was either she was dating a married man, or she had married him herself. Would the lie really be any more helpful than the truth?

Hermione's expression of frustration she had worn when nonsensically lashing out at him was gone. Her mouth was a little twisted, her eyes wide and helpless. "Dad, it's not…"

Her mother suddenly spoke up, hitting her husbands shoulder lightly. "He's the same age as your daughter. Do you really think he's already married?"

"I think the evidence points that way, yeah!"

"Well, it's not our business either way." The older woman gave her husband a long, hard look, and in an instant he seemed to shrink, his shoulders slumping. With a huff, he crossed his arms over his chest, but didn't contradict his wife further.

"Uh…" Hermione said. She seemed to be completely lost, looking between her parents and Draco. Meanwhile, Draco had to admit that awful dinner parties with parents seemed to be their 'thing.' It was bonding, in a way.

He smirked at the thought, and Hermione flashed him a quick irritated look as she noticed his amused expression. "It's not funny," she hissed. "I think I should tell you both something," she said to her parents, facing forward again. "I've been lying to you…"

Oh, didn't Hermione know that you left huge revelations for the end of a meal? That way, it was much easier to make to a run for it and let the information fester without you sticking around.

Hermione pulled her wand under the table, making sure no one nearby was looking at them. Quietly, she removed the glamour from her hand. When she looked up at Draco, he could read her easily- she was scared. Terrified. Her parents would have no way to process this information, no prior knowledge or clues… this could potentially turn ugly.

Very slowly, she raised her hand up from under the table. "It's… this might take a while to explain…" Hermione began, watching as her mother's eyes bulged.

"Hermione…" her mother whispered. Her father, apparently, was struck silent.

"Um… surprise?" Hermione said, and Draco raised a hand to cover his face. This woman… she really was going to drive him crazy. If she were calm and collected and sly, she could have found a way to avoid making this such a big deal. Instead, she said '_surprise_.'

Draco groaned.

Her mother looked at her father. The older man looked stunned, and Draco got the distinct impression that even if someone _shook_ him he would still sit painfully straight up in his chair, looking like a Basilisk had petrified him.

Her mother met his eyes, and even though it was a question that should have been directed at Hermione he got the impression she was talking to him directly. "How? When? And for god's sake, _why_!? You're only nineteen! What the heck was the _rush_!?"

Draco maintained his silence in this. He had no idea what Hermione would want her parents to know- did she plan on telling them the whole truth? Or was she going to concoct a brilliant- but woefully belated- lie?

Just then a waitress appeared. The woman seemed totally oblivious to the tense atmosphere she had just barged into, instead piping up with an extremely cheerful voice. "Hello, my name is Joan! I'll be your server today! Shall I tell you about our morning specials…?"

It was like a strange, awkward, temporary truce descended while everyone put in their orders. The moment the woman had walked away, however, Hermione's mother whirled, expectant eyes on her daughter once again.

Hermione took a deep breath. "It's one of those things that's a little difficult for me to explain… just keep in mind that I'm happy, okay? So far, it's working out."

"_So far_?" Draco asked, throwing her a vaguely indignant look. Did she expect everything to go to hell sometime in the near future?

Oh, right. His father was coming home.

He still hadn't worked through his own opinions about that fact, so he put it out of his mind for the time being.

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. "Well… I'm not so into divination, you know. Can't always predict the future…" She turned back to her parents. "Anyways, the Ministry of Magic passed a new law last February. The Marriage Law…"

She went full-swing into her explanation, trying to tell them everything… well, not everything. Draco was clearly happy she left out some of the key details. Such as the love potion. Her kidnapping. The horrible power their rings had over their lives.

Not that Draco minded so much, anymore, being married to Hermione. But he knew that it was still monstrously unfair to her- she was trapped. If the two of them woke up tomorrow hating each other, she was still trapped. She couldn't leave- last night was a nasty reminder of that fact.

He didn't want her to feel trapped.

"I don't understand…February!?" her father stuttered. "February!? This has been going on since February, and you never said anything?"

Hermione looked down at her hands in her lap.

"I think," Draco said, feeling shocked that his mouth was speaking words even though he knew he should just keep it shut, "that even when she's under a lot of stress, she hides it because she doesn't want other people to worry." He remembered how she acted, the very morning after she had been tortured and nearly killed by the Death Eaters. She brushed off her problems so she could deal with the larger situation, but it was more than that. She was protecting the people around her by not letting on how tough things were for her. Maybe she was protecting herself, too…

"You- why do you even have the right to talk!? We thought it was strange; Hermione had mentioned you before. You were the little bigot who picked on her at school, am I right? If this whole marriage was arranged, and she hated you, then why are you _here_?"

"Dad," Hermione said, her voice sharp and clear. The boy a couple tables down put his game boy away. A lot of people were looking at their table, now, and it was clear that at some point the conversation had risen to a level that could be heard by the people around them. "I told you that I'm happy. Everything is fine now-"

"No, it isn't," her mother said, cutting her off. "No, it's not fine. Do you feel lucky, now that the two of you seem to be getting along? That's why you're happy, right? But that's not the same thing discovering if you love him on your own- you're nineteen years old. You haven't had time to realize what love _is_. You were forced into this situation, and so what choice did you have but to get along? It's still not the same as choosing for yourself."

Arranged marriages were not uncommon in the Wizarding world. Draco understood the ideology behind 'marriage first, love later.' However, he knew that Hermione's mother had a fair point, too.

They were each given only one option for who to love in their whole lives. Were they developing feelings for each other, now, simply because they had no other options? Was that the catalyst to everything Draco now found attractive and charming about Hermione? Was it all just a lie they told themselves to carry on?

No. He didn't believe that. But maybe that's why _she_ had let herself get close to him.

"How can the people in charge pass a law like this? What about your friends? Are they-"

"Yes. Well, my pure-blood friends and muggle-born classmates, at least, are all affected. Harry and Ginny got married before the Law was passed, though, so… happy ending for them," Hermione said, whispering the last part.

Draco stared at her. _Happy ending for them_. There was bitter resentment in her voice as she spoke those words.

Oh, Merlin. Was it all a lie? She wasn't happy. She wasn't happy at all.

Was he a fool for pretending she could be? As he had once speculated, he was her captor. How could she ever love her captor?

And there was that word again. Love. Why did that word keep popping up in his mind? Why did it feel like something heavy had landed on his chest when he thought that her feelings were all forced… an act, to make him feel better. So he didn't worry. Maybe to fool herself into thinking she was happy…

Stupid, wallowing in self-pity. This was hardly the time.

"I see this party just became something very different than it was intended to be." He turned to Hermione, not meeting her eyes. "I think what you need right now is some time with your parents. Without me. I'll see you later."

She looked like she wanted to protest, so he left quickly, heading to the bathroom so he could have a hidden place to apparate home.

...

Draco walked into the potions room, not really focused on what he was doing. He needed time to think.

Time which was, obviously, going to be denied him. It was less than a minute after he had apparated home, and sure enough he heard the "crack" of apparition at his heels, out in the hallway. He was technically on _her_ side of the house, wasn't he? The potions room was just the first place he had thought of…

The door flung open, and she looked around. When her eyes connected with him they narrowed. "What the hell, Draco! You don't get to do that…"

"Do what…?" he asked, but didn't get much further as the angry wild-haired woman advanced on him.

"You don't get to just leave when things get bad! You don't just get to run away again!"

"I wasn't running away…"

"What is wrong with you!? Were you honestly so bothered by what my father said, because really, you know he was just in shock-"

"I was bothered by what _you_ said!" Draco said, surprising himself with how angry his outburst seemed. She was standing very close to him, now, but as he yelled she took a step back, eyes wide. Draco shook his head, gulping audibly. "I… I don't know why," he lied. "I'm sorry. I just need-"

"What do you mean?" her voice was so soft, so transformed from the fury of her initial appearance. "What did I say that… upset you?"

Draco put a hand to his face, rubbing absently at his jaw. He walked away a few paces, pretending to inspect a cauldron on one of the tables. "It's just…" he cleared his throat, wondering where this conversation was going to go. What should he say? He had wondered that a lot, lately, and it scared him that he just didn't know. "…this isn't right. This isn't the way your life should be. I know that neither of us has a choice," he added quickly, raising a hand as she opened her mouth to speak, "but the fact remains that your mother is right- we're together now because we were forced into it."

Hermione stared. "Draco- past the point where the details of this damn Law were fulfilled, no one has forced me to do anything. I have my own freewill. How could you let this bother you so much? I don't understand…"

"Are you happy?" he asked, looking up at her and away from the cauldron his hand was resting on. "Truthfully?"

She looked like she was really thinking about it, her eyes a million miles away. She looked to the ceiling, then to the bottles on the shelf as if she were studying each label intensely. "At this exact moment? Not especially. I thought we were understanding each other…. Why the inquisition?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you're feeling frustrated right now, what with the disaster of having to tell your parents the _truth_. But what I'm asking is more general than that: are you happy, here, with me? Are you happy at Malfoy Manor?"

This time, she answered without hesitation. "Yes."

He found he couldn't answer her right away. It floored him, the fact that she could say something so decisive with such conviction, without even blinking. She meant it. She meant it, and he couldn't think of _why_.

"Yes, I'm happy Draco. I like making Potions with you. I like dating you. I even like having you with me for the less savory parts of our lives- the mysteries and fights and scary moments. I'm happy here because you're here. _You__'ve_ made me happy…. I love you."

And there it was. She had said it- she was brave. To put those words out there, hanging in the air between them, with no guarantee they would be accepted or returned… so brave. He wasn't that brave.

He told himself constantly that he didn't know how he felt about her, but really he was just a coward. If he accepted it, it would make life more difficult. It would set him up for pain. He couldn't believe that he loved her, so he pretended he didn't know.

But not anymore. Not now that she had those words floating between them.

"Me too," he said, running a hand through his hair nervously. "That is… I love you, too."

They just stared at each other from halfway across the room, neither sure what to say next. Hermione cleared her throat after a moment, blinking rapidly. Were her eyes a little redder than usual? "I, uh… I'm not sure if this makes things easier or harder for us."

"Certainly _clearer,_" Draco answered, striding forward towards her. He grabbed her hands, holding them between him. Yeah, her eyes were red. They looked more than a little wet, too.

"What did I say that upset you?" she asked for the second time.

"Just the way you talked about your friends… that they were happy. You were jealous."

Hermione nodded. "I was jealous of them at the start. I'll always be. I'll never look back on our wedding day with fond memories, you know- it was horrible for us both. I'm still so angry about all of it… but I'm happy now. Things have changed, but the beginning never can change. I guess I just envy them being able to choose each other from the start."

"You never would have chosen me if not for the Law. I never would have chosen you."

She nodded. "True. But I _chose_ this- what we have now. We didn't _have_ to like each other in any capacity. Our current relationship was our choice." She wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head on his chest. It felt good, being enveloped by her warm body… her scent was so uniquely Hermione, so comforting to him now.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her. He had a feeling that she was crying, though her face was hidden against his shoulder. "I bet your parents are pissed, just leaving like that."

"You left first," she mumbled against him. She shuddered, her fingers digging into his shirt. She was definitely crying.

"You were meant to stay and maybe sooth them a bit…"

"I had to chase after you. I had to… I had to tell you," she started sobbing, now, and he could feel his shirt becoming wet against him. He placed a hand on the back of her head, threading his fingers in her short hair. He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes.

Things would become more difficult, now.

In such a short time, everything had changed. He loved her, and he would do anything to make sure she was happy… so what now? What about the book, his father, and the Death Eaters still out there?

He decided that all of those things could wait. They weren't important, right now. The future wasn't important, right now. All he wanted to do was make her stop crying.

He stepped back a little, bringing a hand down to grip her chin. He tilted her tear stained face up to him, frowning. "If you're happy, stop crying. Everything's fine."

She looked surprised, and then the corners of her mouth lifted up hesitantly. "I guess I seem a little silly, huh? It's just been a lot of stress, and it turns out it was for nothing, because in the end you love me." She kissed him, then, and he felt his face grow hot. True, he had said it, but it was going to be a little embarrassing if she _kept_ saying it.

He had never really said that before to a girl. He had never felt that way about anyone before, and so the revelation was really an entirely new situation for him. Was it such a relief for her to hear it? Did she think, when she had said it, that her words would be met with silence?

"I think I should go back now… try and make my parents stop with the 'freaking out,'" she said suddenly, stepping back out of his arms.

Draco nodded. "Do you want me to come…?"

"No, it's fine. Probably better if it's just me for a while… And, for the record, you're right- it's not your fault. I shouldn't have lied to them anyways. Please, don't blame yourself _at all_ for not casting a simple glamour spell and _completely_ blowing my cover."

Draco stared at her, feeling a little alarmed at her quip, until she flashed him a grin to let him know she was kidding. He looked down at his ring. "Yeah… probably should have thought that through."

Hermione just shook her head. "I'll see you later. Let's have dinner together, okay?"

He nodded, and with a turn she disapperated.

…

_A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters! I hope everyone liked it as much as I do! Maybe since I'm engaged I'm really feeling all the lovey-dovey stuff lately. I wrote this part quite a while ago, actually, but rereading it for editing was fun._


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: Happy New Year! Double upload for ya!_

**Chapter 30: The News**

Hermione was in pretty high spirits, despite finding her parents walking to their car by the time she returned to the restaurant. Apparently, they hadn't decided to stay and eat. Go figure.

She should never have lied to them- she knew that. But nothing they said could make her flinch this time around. He loved her. He had told her that. She never would have thought those words could come out of that mouth, but it was true. It didn't matter that they started off bad, and it didn't matter that they were too young to be married. It didn't matter that they had had no choice but to marry each other. Because in the end, they loved each other, and how they got to that point was meaningless- just memories.

Now she had to make her parents stop worrying about her. Of course, they were probably still in shock… it might take time. They had good reason to be upset, afterall.

"Hermione, baby!" her mother said, scooping her into a hug the moment she noticed her. "I'm sorry- we didn't mean to scare you off. We were just-"

"You didn't scare me off, mom. You were just saying things that were true."

"Oh, hun… there must be something we can do?"

"Can we file a complaint with this Ministry of yours?" her father asked, hugging her in turn.

Hermione shook her head. "Trust me- plenty of people have tried. And the point is moot anyways- I told you that I'm happy. I wasn't being misleadingly optimistic, because I really am in a good place right now- I still have my friends, I still have my internship, and now I have Draco…. I didn't choose him on my own, but if given a choice right now I would. I'm okay. Don't worry about me."

"Well…" her mother said, crossing her arms and looking down at the toes of her pointy high-heels. "We would have been worried at the proper time, when all this started, if you had told us."

"You're right. I'm sorry… things were hard…"

"What he said is true, huh? You don't tell us things because you don't want other people to worry about you… but sometimes we _need_ to worry. You're our little girl." her father said, and Hermione was instantly filled with shame at the breaking sound of his voice. She had hurt them by keeping this a secret, and she had known she would.

"Let's go home to eat- I'm starved," her mother added, leading Hermione to the car. "We can talk more… and maybe you can tell us if you have any more little secrets."

This could be a long day.

...

After waiting for what felt like forever, Draco finally made his way from the library to the dining room. Dinner was always at the same time, seven sharp, so if she was coming home at any time that would be it. He had been killing time looking through some new potions books Hermione had added to their library- really, she spent more money on books than anything else. And though she had been building Malfoy Manor's collection, she had still not used any money from their vault. She was stubborn to a point where it was ridiculous.

When Draco arrived at the dining room, he was surprised to see that it wasn't empty.

He hadn't seen much of his mother lately. She was always busy with one charity or another, trying to rebuild their family name, but more importantly she was in charge of their finances. There were many investments to be made and looked after, and Narcissa had been taking care of things while Lucius was gone. Draco himself had always expected his father to teach him what was required of managing the Malfoy estate, but obviously there had never been time.

If the work was tiring, his mother never let it show. She played the part of the carefree socialite well at parties- no one would guess she was actually the one holding the family up. It was unusual, in old families like theirs, for her to be placed in such a position. Draco wondered if she liked it or was counting the days for things to go back to normal.

"Mother," Draco acknowledged with a nod. Who knows- if his mother managed to pick a fight with Hermione this evening, they could be looking at a rare 'two for one' deal on in-law battles for the day. Goody.

His mother nodded back, smiling warmly. "Excellent- I was hoping you would be coming this evening. There are some things we need to talk about."

Draco sat down in a seat next to his mother, feeling a little wary. "Yeah?"

"Draco, we have only a few days left before your father returns to us. Now, you know what it was like the last time he came out of Azkaban… this was a longer stay. He won't be up to much for a while."

Draco gulped. He remembered. For some reason, in his mind, he had been expecting the straight-backed, confident, imposing figure of his father from his old memories to return to them next week. It had actually slipped his mind that the man coming back home would be that sickly, tired shadow Draco had come to know in recent years. Ever since their fall from Voldemort's graces. Ever since his first stay in Azkaban.

Draco frowned. How had such a man managed to write a whole book last summer before being sent to that horrible prison? How had he found the strength to care about such matters, when they didn't directly affect his family and he knew his stay in Azkaban would only be a year long? To send the Death Eaters off the trail… why would a man who knew the horrors in store for him among the Dementors really care? Wasn't that a little out of character for the man?

No, he was thinking too much into it. It didn't matter "why," or "how": his father had written that book. It had the Malfoy motto in it.

"I'm going to show you a few things about our regular donation deductions- to Hogwarts, to the Ministry… tomorrow, we'll go over the accounts. I'll need you to handle some of the work while I take care of your father. Don't worry- it's some of the simplest of our finances. I don't expect anything to change, but you would be surprised how often we get requests from certain offices. Occasionally the Department of Mysteries tries to double withdraw and pretend it's just an accounting error when we catch them…"

Withdraw? Were they a bank? Well, in a way Draco supposed they kinda were… his father had always said that if you paid off the right people, and donated to the right organizations, you could hold all the power and none of the responsibility.

"I understand. I was doing a lot of filing and reviewing bank statements at my internship, anyways, so I guess I'm qualified."

His mother smiled knowingly. "Yes. I'm sorry it didn't work out for you, but you should feel proud of yourself for trying. You learned some useful skills, in the end, which is why I'm sure you'll be capable of handling a few tasks around this house. One day it will all be yours, afterall. Little by little, your father and I will train you to maintain our wealth."

The salads arrived as she was talking, which provided an excellent distraction for Draco, giving him time to think. It disturbed him a little, thinking about his inheritance. He could picture himself, sitting behind his father's large desk in his expansive office. He could imagine carrying himself with the same presence of command that his father once had, cleverly extending his reach to all parts of government. Controlling _everything_.

Everyone always told him he looked like his father. Now with a clear mind he could envision himself becoming the man, as time went on… that's what he had always wanted. Always dreamed for himself.

Why did it scare him now?

No, he knew why. For all his imagining, when he saw his part in that future there was no Hermione beside him. That future and one with her were on different paths entirely. But what did that _mean_?

"And one more thing," his mother said after finishing a bite of salad. "Don't let word of this get out, but as usual the Prophet is doing its duty to the Ministry and keeping quiet…"

"...what do you…?"

"There have been five cases of missing people since the enactment of the law. Five muggle-borns missing, along, of course, with their spouses. All suspected but unconvicted Death eaters. All young and stupid and not realizing when it is appropriate to give up and move on with their lives. The Prophet has down-played the importance of the missing, making them sound like love-sick runaways, to lessen the blow to the integrity of the Marriage Law."

Draco felt his mouth fall open, and quickly closed it as he realized he had plenty of chewed lettuce filling it. He swallowed hard, staring at his mother. She was the picture of calm, taking a slow drink of wine and then studying her glass.

"The house elves are getting lazy- there's a spot on this. One more thing that will shape up after Lucius gets home."

"Mother, can we return to the topic of horrible murders, rather than a lack of good help around the house?"

His mother's eyes flicked to him. "How pessimistic. I never said murders."

"It was implied."

"Ah, good boy. You always were quick to read between the lines."

"It wasn't subtle. You're saying the Ministry is covering up kidnappings…"

"All thanks to the Marriage Law. Some of them were classmates of yours- Theodore Nott and a girl from a year below you, what was her name? Henrietta something? Really, it should be obvious at this point. The Ministry most likely knew about that one quickly after Nott's father was arrested that night at the Estate."

Theo hadn't been arrested that night. Plenty of Death Eaters had managed to flee, but that was one person Draco had wished he could see heading off to Azkaban. It chilled him, just thinking about it.

"The older Greengrass girl was in your year, right? She went missing with a boy named Terry Boot. Then, of course, there is Pansy…" His mother gave him a sharp look, and it became very clear to Draco that she knew there was more to that story. "… her parents are frightfully worried, I've heard…. But as I've mentioned, I have my doubts about them lately. Have you happened to hear from your friend, Draco?"

He shook his head. He hated to lie to his mother, but he knew this was one secret he was meant to keep.

She nodded, returning to her salad. "In any case, as I said, this is all thanks to the Marriage Law."

"The Ministry would look like fools if this got out," Draco said, suddenly realizing where his mother was going with this. "But they can't keep it hidden. People will find out. And then…"

"I expect, very soon, they will need to give up and go home with their tails between their legs," she said bluntly, drinking more wine. "The Marriage Law will be repealed within months, if my guess is right. They paired young pure-bloods up with the very people they had fought for years. What did they expect to happen? Did they expect everyone to get along? Fools. I'm not glad people got hurt, but if it was necessary for the Ministry to see reason then maybe it was for the greater good." She smiled, obviously missing the horror slipping into her son's eyes. "Isn't it good news, really? Soon this whole thing will be just like a horrible dream that we can all forget. We played our part, cooperated, and even protected that girl. Now everyone can move on with their lives."

Draco put down his fork, his appetite waning. Boot and some girl who's name his mother didn't bother to find out were probably dead. Probably cut to bloody pieces, just as Hermione would have been if he hadn't saved her.

They had failed to create a Horcrux, and just as Hermione predicted, they had tried again. At least four times. Four dead people, and his mother thought that was just fine. Afterall, they were just muggle-borns.

Draco didn't even have time to really process the other bit of news- that the Marriage Law would be repealed and how that would affect him- when Hermione appeared with a "crack!"

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm a bit late! My parents wanted to try using wire cutters to remove the ring, and though it started out as a joke, I was getting a little worried there… oh, hello Narcissa." Hermione stopped short, eyes flicking from one blond head to the next. She had no way of knowing the conversation she had walked in on."Uh… fancy meeting you here."

Draco's mother smiled. "I could say the same thing about you- what brings you out of your hall?"

Hermione smiled sweetly. "An invitation, actually."

Narcissa turned to Draco, eyes searching and a little cold. Draco fought the urge to sink lower in his seat. What did he have to fear from his mother, really? Let her glower- he could invite anyone to dinner he wanted.

"How delightful," she said finally.

Hermione ignored her chilly welcome, walking around the table to sit directly next to Draco. She was still dressed in amazingly casual muggle clothes, a fact which did not slip by his mother's notice. Draco hadn't exactly dressed up himself, but he counted himself extremely lucky that he hadn't allowed himself to be forced into that dreaded "T-shirt," or his mother might have lost her mind.

Hermione's own salad appeared just as she sat down, and she smiled. "Thanks!" she said, even though the house elves were hidden. She started to eat, then seemed to notice for the first time the look on Draco's face. She lowered her fork. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, surprised when it came out a dry whisper. He would talk to her later about this- not in front of his mother. He didn't want to tell her at all, but he supposed she had a right to know… the situation with the Death Eaters applied directly to her, afterall. Maybe he should get the news to Pansy, too? Would she care that people had died, that the Marriage Law would be repealed?

Probably not. She had made her decision to stay with her muggle-born husband no matter what. What would Hermione's decision be? What would his own be? Why did everything always have to be so damn complicated?

Hermione gave him a vaguely suspicious look, then nodded slowly. Her eyes flicked to his mother, and it seemed like she understood. 'Later,' her eyes said when she looked back to him.

The three ate their dinner in relative silence, his mother finishing quickly and leaving them before dessert came. She claimed she was busy, but Draco suspected she was angry with him for inviting Hermione himself. Or maybe she suspected there was more to their relationship than there once was… this could all blow up in his face very soon.

"So… did something happen?" Hermione asked as his mother's heels clicked down the hall and away from the dining room.

Draco didn't know what to say. There was just too much swimming through his mind at the moment, and he needed time to sort it all out. "It's… several things," he flummoxed, laying his head on the stiff back of his chair in defeat. "How about a drink?"

She smiled, leaning an elbow on the table. "Your place or mine?"

...

Hermione tried to steady the butterflies rustling about in her stomach. Something was strange about Draco tonight… something had definitely happened, but so far all he had done was sit down and take small sips of his brandy.

His answer had been "My place," and it was an interesting discovery for Hermione that Draco had his own study. It shouldn't have been surprising- the manor had so many rooms they could house half of the Wizards in the UK.

Of course, by 'study,' he meant 'giant room that just happens to contain a desk.' There was a fireplace and sophisticated dark furniture, soft leather chairs and what appeared to be mahogany throughout the room. A small bar was built into the wall at one side, from which Draco fetched their drinks. She really had been drinking more this summer than she ever had before- mainly due to evening conversations with Draco. Was he a bad influence on her?

She smiled to herself, sipping at her drink. She didn't know a good brand from a bad one, but she suspected this was very expensive based on the fancy glass bottle at the bar.

"So… do you have something to tell me?" she tried, watching as Draco took a seat opposite her, both of them close to the warm, gently cracking fireplace.

He sighed, rubbing at his forehead. "Haven't we had enough heavy conversations today?" he muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear.

He was right. Hermione shouldn't press him. It was obvious by the atmosphere in that dining room that something he had spoken about with his mother had bothered him… this could be many things, however. Narcissa had plenty to complain about when it came to Hermione- maybe she knew about the time they had been spending together? Maybe she had given Draco a hard time?

After hearing Pansy's story, she had thought that Narcissa would never put her child through so much trouble. However…Hermione didn't think Narcissa would just let it slip by. She wouldn't want her son to actually love his wife, now would she? She would put up a fight if she thought Draco was serious about her.

"Sorry," she answered, trying to put on a cheerful face. "Let's talk about something else… I got an Owl while I was at my parent's today. Tomorrow is Ginny's birthday…"

"I thought yesterday was? Wasn't that the point of you being dragged around muggle London until midnight?"

"Er, right. TV has not been a good influence on that girl," Hermione answered, looking amused. "But then, it's my own fault for not watching the time. Anyways, they're having a party at the burrow…"

Draco looked less than thrilled, sighing and slouching down into his seat.

"...you don't have to go. But we were both invited- don't look at me like that! Yes, Ginny invited you too- and I have gone along with your mother's invitations three times now-"

"Okay, I'll go. Geez…"

"And Teddy will be there- I think it could be nice, meeting your cousin, right?"

"You said that before… is this a second cousin? The family tree's a bit far-reaching, you know, so I'm not sure…"

"Oh my god," Hermione said, suddenly realizing something. "You really have no idea who he is, do you!?" She could hardly believe it- true, she knew that part of the family was estranged from the pure-blood side, but she had expected he would at _least_ know the kid had been born. Hermione shook her head. "Well, I guess it's not like he's on the black family tree or anything- which, by the way, Harry was able to tear down. Ginny mentioned in her letter that if your family wants it, she'll send it over…"

Draco scrunched up his face, shaking his head. "As you said, I look dreadful on it. Toss it- like I care." He paused a moment, then continued, "Is he related to Aunt Andromeda, then? That makes the most sense, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "Tonks and Professor Lupin's son."

Draco seem to think, then nodded. "I heard some… rumors that they were together. Didn't think they were true, since they were phrased in the form of mocking taunts."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, it was true. They got married and had Teddy shortly before… shortly before the Battle of Hogwarts."

"Oh," was all Draco said, and Hermione found herself irrationally irritated. They weren't supposed to be talking about heavy stuff, were they? All she wanted to do was invite him to a party. She should drop this subject.

She really should.

"You seem less than enthused. You know, Harry's Teddy's Godfather- that's why they babysit him so often, now. It's hard on his grandmother, raising him alone…" Why was she still talking about this? It bothered her, the lack of caring Draco was giving this subject. She wasn't sure what she wanted out of him… maybe an acknowledgment that this connection was important? Maybe some hint that he could accept the side of his family who had been labeled "blood-traitors" for so long?

"There's irony there, right?" Draco said, throwing Hermione for a loop.

She stared at him, mouth set in a tight line. What the hell did he mean?

"That is, Potter was an orphan too, right? Getting your parents killed by the Dark Lord and all… and didn't Potter have a Godfather who lived at Grimmauld Place? That's how he got the house, right?"

Draco knew a bit more than he let on. Hermione tilted her head to the side, trying to figure out Draco's angle. "Yes," she answered, "That's right."

Draco shrugged. "Just noting the similarities… but at least the kid has people to look after him, right? It seems like it's not all bad."

Hermione let herself relax in her chair, nodding. "No, not that bad at all. Harry really loves the little guy- you can tell. He's the kind of person who will be a great father one day…"

Draco had seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. At her words he looked up. Hermione thought he looked a touch paler than usual. "Ah, right… of course you'd think so. Harry can do everything perfect, afterall."

The bitterness was not hard to miss. What was his problem?

Before she could ask, he cleared his throat, forcing a casual quality into his tone. "Hermione, what would you do if you could get out of this marriage?"

She stared at him. She remembered something she had said, so long ago, on the morning after their horrible wedding. She had told him he was the last person that would make a good father, right? Was that what this was about? She felt rather horrible, now, connecting that one statement to what she had just said about Harry. "Are you… I know you're not trying to bring up that dead conversation about us having a kid to get out of this, right? I still don't think it's a good idea… but for what it's worth, I take back what I said before, about you seeming like you'd be a crumby father. I didn't really know you, then."

"I didn't know me then, either," he answered her, shaking his head. "Never mind- didn't we agree to talk about nicer things tonight?"

She smiled, still feeling a little unsure. "Yes we did. And I seem to be doing a terrible job of it- you know me. Miss know-it-all. I guess I just live to pry…"

"It's your right to pry, when it's important. And thank you, by the way… for saying I wouldn't completely fail as a father. I'm leaning towards disagreeing, but thanks anyways."

She blinked. What was wrong with him tonight?

"Let's go to the Weasel-den tomorrow, then. Whatever you want."

"Action-packed weekend," she said, trying to make him smile at her. "Next week, we can do whatever you want, okay? I won't drag you around anywhere with people who drive you crazy- promise."

Her words didn't appear to have the intended effect. Instead, Draco set down his drink carefully on the mantle as he stood up. He walked over to her chair, leaning down and placing his hands on the arms of the red leather seat, bringing himself down to eye level with her. She could only watch him with wide eyes- he was definitely acting strangely. Was he sad about something? He almost seemed sad, which wasn't something she was used to seeing.

He kissed her, even as she stared at him with a confused expression, her eyes wide. His kiss was very soft and slow- softer than any before. Hermione brought her hands up to his face, finally wrapping them around his neck, as he kissed her. He reached up, grabbing her hands, and stood back up, pulling her with him. He didn't have to say a word- Hermione followed him.

He held onto her hand as he led her out of the room, their fingers linking together. The hallway was dark- the house elves had turned out the lights for the evening in this part of the house, assuming their masters had retired to their rooms and parlors for the night.

Hermione gave his hand a little squeeze as they walked. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" she asked, trying to make out his face in the dim moonlight as they passed a large window.

He stopped short, letting out a long breath. "Hermione, I meant what I said earlier. It took saying it to really realize it, I suppose… I love you. I don't want to let you go."

Hermione stepped out in front of him, keeping ahold of his hand. She brought it up to her face, kissing his palm lightly. "Why would you have to? Really, you're making me a little worried…"

He sighed heavily, drawing back his hand and moving to look out the window. From this part of the house, you could see the Quidditch pitch quite clearly, one of the looming loops of the goals almost framing the moon. "The Marriage Law might be repealed soon."

She started, blinking rapidly as she looked at him. Had she heard right? Was it really just as she had predicted, back in February? "That's _good_ news! Why are you sulking like that?"

His eyebrows were drawn together, his mouth set in a small frown as he looked down at her. He almost looked like a ghost in this lighting- a sad, confused ghost. "Good news?"

"Well, yes- I mean, neither of us _chose_ this for ourselves. I want… I want to choose you for myself, next time."

His frown deepened. "So, you _will_ leave me."

"What? Don't be dramatic! We're not really married, remember? It's all just a big, fake scheme of the Ministry. You're not my husband in my mind- you're my boyfriend."

He nodded, looking away. He seemed a little dazed- like she had confunded him.

"I'm sorry… I would never want to hurt you," she said, touching his shoulder. She felt his warmth under the thin fabric of his crisp white shirt. "I'll still be _with_ you- nothing will change between us. I _want_ to be with you… I want _you_, Draco." She pulled at his shirt until he got the hint, leaning over so she could kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him.

When they parted, Hermione grabbed his hand, leading him the rest of the way to where they had obviously been heading: his bedroom.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31: The Birthday Party**

Draco was full of conflictions. He didn't tell her about the missing people- he couldn't tell her. Not tonight. He would save a conversation he knew would invoke tears for another day.

He hadn't meant to tell her about the Marriage Law, either. Somehow it had just slipped out, as he had sat and wondered what she would do. Would she leave him, afterall? She said she loved him, but what was that compared to her freedom?

And in the end, her answer had been yes, she was going to leave him.

This didn't come as quite the blow he had thought it would, though, since she quickly made it clear that that didn't mean she wouldn't still be with him. It wouldn't change anything… Draco wondered if that was true. It certainly put him in a difficult position. If she chose to divorce him, then there would be no excuse he could come up with to continue to see her. They would have to sneak around, or risk his parents finding out. He did not want them to find out... not for a long time, anyways. There would be hell to pay.

But then, if he begged her to stay he was pretty sure she would. When the Marriage Law was repealed, his parents would expect them to agree to a divorce. It would look, to his parents, as if _she_ were the one trapping _him_. Draco wouldn't be at the receiving end of their wrath: Hermione would be.

For a divorce among witches and wizards, generally both parties had to agree. The witch was entitled to a hell of an alimony settlement, too, which his mother would happily pay, and Hermione would blatantly refuse.

Draco could always be the one who refused the divorce. But then, that was the same as being her captor all over again, wasn't it?

He didn't mean for this to happen- he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when he started to think of her as such an important person in his life, but she was. When did she stop being a burden and start becoming cherished? The night he saved her? Later?

He didn't ask for such a huge complication in his life, though he knew she couldn't help what she was any more than he could stop being a Malfoy. But the fact was that her blood-status would cause a lot of problems after the Marriage Law was dissolved. He thought about what she had said to try and placate him…'I want to choose you for myself, next time.'

Next time? Didn't she realize how impossible it was for there to be a next time? His father would certainly disown him if he proposed to her properly, brought her home, and declared he would be marrying her of his own free will. His mother… his mother would give him an earful, and cry and plead and make him feel like shit….

What was he _supposed to do!?_

Her small hand moved deftly over the buttons of his shirt, brushing the cool fabric against his skin, her soft eyes seeming to drink him in as she worked. When the last button was undone, she ran her hands up his chest, moving to slip around his sides under his open shirt. She pressed her mouth softly to his skin, kissing him gently along his collarbone.

He sighed softly, letting his shirt fall from his shoulders. She was so soft, so warm- he couldn't seem to concentrate on the very real problems in his head when she was there with him, holding him, leading him to the bed with that small smile on her face.

Her smile made him feel like everything would work out somehow. How could he be so worried when this fantastic woman believed in him?

She sat down on the bed and he leaned over her, pressing her down as he found her lips, his hands pulling up the floaty white muggle shirt she was wearing. Her skin was like silk, and his hands began sliding up her waist without him even realizing it. He wanted to touch her everywhere, to feel her soft skin pressed to his as much as possible. Only she could make his troubles float away. Only her warmth and deep eyes could calm and comfort him.

It seemed like no time at all had passed before their touching and kissing found them pressed bare to each other, lying in the center of the bed. She moved, crawling on top of him, her short brown hair still long enough to fall in her face and mask one of her eyes. He raised a hand up, brushing it away without a thought. This was definitely different for him- that fevered, desperate and hurried wanting just didn't seem able to grip him tonight. All he could do was watch her, and it was like he was underwater, every movement languid and purposeful. He didn't want to fuck her tonight- he wanted to _feel_ her. It was hard for him to explain, even in his own mind, but he wanted something _more_ from her tonight.

She straddled him, looking a little unsure of herself. Draco smiled, keeping the hand that had brushed away her hair on her face for a moment before dragging it down. He let his fingers drag over her pert breast, her eyes fluttering as he did so, before continuing down to grip her waist. With both hands on the swell of her hips, he pushed her back a little, positioning her over him. She reached down, adjusting so that he slipped easily inside her, her head falling back and a low moan escaping her parted pink lips.

"Ah… Draco…" she said in a little puff of exhaled air as Draco guided her back up, and then slowly down again. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands- in her current position, she couldn't quite reach him. This wouldn't do- he wanted her to touch him.

He pulled her down close and rolled them over quickly, eliciting a small squeak of surprise from Hermione. Her face was pink, her hands held loosely at her chest. Draco took one of her hands in his own, relying on his other arm for balance. He placed her hand behind his head, smiling as she ran her fingers through his hair. They were pressed tight together now, and their breathing was almost synced as he held her.

Then he began to move, hips rocking against hers in a slow rhythm that seemed to match their breathing, growing faster as their heartbeats sped up and their breathes came in short gasps. He started to kiss her everywhere he could reach, whispering things to her that were only half-formed in his mind. He wasn't even aware of all he was saying as his lips brushed against her neck, her body moving to match his faster thrusts.

"Ah!" she cried, hands grasping at his back, eyes rolling back. "You…" she murmured, humming lightly as he sucked at a spot just below her ear. "…love you… mmm… please…" Her legs moved up his thighs, gripping him and giving him a deeper angle. Now he was getting a little worried- he might not last long enough for her this time.

Just as he was thinking that she clutched at him, crying out. He felt her tighten around him at the exact moment that he felt he couldn't last another moment. He kissed her as they came almost together, one of his hands tangled in her wavy short hair.

Even when it was over, he kept kissing her, his hand smoothing her hair out of her face as they both tried to catch their breath.

"Draco?" she said breathily, staring up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You're really…" she looked a little lost for words for a minute, and finally gasped, "…heavy."

He blinked. "Oh. Oh! Sorry."

He rolled off of her, and she took a deep breath before laughing lightly. She pulled at the covers under her, bringing them up and over them both with a little help from Draco. She turned to face him, propping her head up with a palm to her cheek. "That was nice…" she said.

Draco snuggled in close, pulling her to him with one arm around her waist. "Yes it was," he said, his face resting by her neck. "Stay here. From now on, stay here with me."

"I… what do you mean?"

"I mean that I don't want there to be a 'your hall' anymore. I want this place to be your home, and I want this room to be your room. I want you by my side."

Unexpectedly, she giggled at that, and Draco tilted his head back to look up at her face with a little frown. "Oh, I wasn't laughing _at_ you! I was just thinking… you're asking me to _move in_ with you. This Mansion really is like a village in of itself, isn't it? Don't look so worried- my answer is yes."

...

She was a little overwhelmed by all the revelations of the day. The Marriage Law might be out before the end of the year, there was still obviously something Draco hadn't told her, her parents were still not happy with her, Draco loved her, and now… now she was going to sleep by his side every night. Okay, the last bit she rather liked. She liked that warm body next to her, the smooth even breathing of the man she loved lulling her to sleep. It all seemed to be moving very fast, but at the same time it all felt like a long time coming. She should have known she loved him. How had it taken so long for her to figure it out?

She had thought it was all hopeful thinking. She had thought it all depended on him, on _his_ feelings. But earlier that day, she had realized that loving him had nothing to do with anyone's heart but her own. She had put it out there because it had _had_ to be said, and the fact that he returned her feelings was an extremely happy bonus.

And now, they had just _made love_.

That's what it was. That's what was different. There had been some measure of tenderness in their past escapades, sure, but this time everything was more… connected. Less of a wild tumble, a desperate need for pleasure. This was about touching him, about affirming everything she felt. This was about showing each other their love.

Even though she should be sleeping, she found herself too giddy about it all. She had never _really_ been in love before. Maybe she thought she had been, once… but her short fling with Ron hadn't been the same. It wasn't as deep, probably because it wasn't so hard won.

She and Draco had bonded thanks to a lot of extremely unlikely circumstances, and she knew it wasn't over with yet. There was more trouble coming, but for now… she was in Draco's bed, and that's where she wanted to spend her nights from now on.

...

She woke up to find that Draco was awake. He was taking one tendril of her hair, laying it across her pillow, and attempting to pull it flat. She yawned, watching his expression.

"Good Morning," she said.

Draco stopped messing with her hair, meeting her eyes. "Finally your awake," he muttered, and in an instant he was on her, showing her with kisses as his hands roamed. She felt him hard between her thighs, and smirked.

"Round two?"

"It's a different day. Round one. And trust me, there will be plenty more rounds before I'm finished with you tonight."

Hermione's heart started to race. Draco really did know how to get her blood pumping and her head dizzy- she pushed her hips up, meeting his thrusts hard. She liked to think she was getting better at all this, now.

...

Hermione popped back over to her side, trying to disentangle her hair from the knot it had formed on top of her head. She selected some moss green robes with white trim that looked fairly casual, and headed to the front gate to meet Draco. She wouldn't have to do this anymore. From now on, they would be leaving from the same spot. She would carry her stuff over when they got back from the party.

Draco was waiting for her, and they apparated to the Burrow together.

Hermione sighed happily at the familiar site of her friend's cozy home.

Draco sighed resignedly at the sight of his afternoon torture chamber.

"Oh, relax. Ginny will be the center of attention, anyways, so she probably won't have time to bug you much. No one will."

"See, you _say_ that…." Draco muttered, but didn't bother to finish his sentence.

The moment Hermione opened the door, she was, as expected, engulfed in in a blur of red. However, the familiar voice that came with it very much unexpected.

"Hermione! Blimey, I feel like I haven't see you in ages!" Ron said, and Hermione gasped in surprise.

"Ron!?" she managed as he pulled away from her, grinning from ear to ear. "You… you're in Egypt!"

"Obviously not," Draco muttered from behind her, and for the first time Ron's gaze drifted over her shoulder. His mouth fell open, just as Ginny sprang into the entryway and knocked her brother roughly aside.

"Come on in!" she squealed, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling on it. "You have to see this- Fleur bought an outfit for Teddy-" she lowered her voice to a whisper, a hand to her mouth, "- and it's just horrible, and Harry ended up laughing, and Fleur got in a tizzy-" she returned her voice to a normal level as they approached the sitting room, "- and now Fleur's talking about how much she wants a baby of her own to dress up and we're all enjoying the many shades Bill's face can turn."

Hermione looked back over her shoulder, watching as Draco followed silently, Ron at his heels with an incredulous glowering gaze stuck on the back of the blond's head.

The living room was alive with people- people laughing and smiling and eating. It wasn't a very big space, of course, but Hermione saw several conversations going on at once- as Ginny had said, Fleur, Bill, and Harry were sitting close to baby Teddy, who was on the floor pulling at the laciest, ugliest salmon-colored dress Hermione had ever seen.

George, Angelina, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were by an old radio, which was blaring some of the old Wizard ballads Mrs. Weasley liked. George looked like he had just said something smartass about it, and his mother was swatting at him and telling him to behave himself.

Ginny pulled Hermione to sit next to her and Harry, leaving a spot for Draco to sit down next to her. Draco sat without complaint, and Hermione got the impression that he was going to bear the afternoon as quietly as possible in the hopes that he would be ignored.

No such luck, it seemed, based on the look Ron was giving him. "Okay, I'm going to come right out and say it. No one else seems to be saying it, which means I've obviously missed something. What. The. Hell. Is. Happening with _this_!?" At the last word, he gestured wildly to Draco, looking to his sister as if she was the keeper of answers.

"Oh, I was under the impression you met before. This is Draco. Draco Malfoy?" Ginny answered in her most condescending tone, a smirk gliding easy over her face.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Don't worry Ron- it's still fairly weird for most of us, too." Hermione gave Harry an annoyed look- this was certainly going to make Draco uncomfortable. How rude. But then, Harry added, "for Draco too, of course." From his position on the floor at Ginny's legs, holding Teddy, he leaned to look past Hermione at Draco, smiling tightly.

Draco said nothing. Hermione noted, however, that she had never heard Harry refer to him by his first name before. Not directly.

"But… why?" Ron asked again, looking so positively flummoxed Hermione almost laughed.

"Ron, calm down," she said, shaking her head. "Honestly. Sometimes things change. Are you going to tell me about your adventure in Egypt, or not? Read anything interesting? Are you just here for Ginny's birthday, or are you staying awhile?"

"You- you are trying to sidetrack this conversation!" Ron answered, pulling up one of the kitchen chairs that had been brought into the living room for the larger group at the party. "Things don't change _that_ much- since when is the ferret invited to the Burrow? Since when is he part of _'__the group_?'"

"Since he's Hermione's _boyfriend,_" Ginny said, taking far too much pleasure in saying that word as she wiggled her eyebrows in Hermione and Draco's direction.

Draco sighed, sitting back into the couch. He seemed like a person who had given up entirely- he laid his head back, closing his eyes. "Can I just pretend to sleep until this whole thing is over?" he muttered to Hermione, and she smiled.

"You can sure try," she answered. "But somehow I don't think anyone's going to buy it."

Draco opened one eye to look at her, and finally looked up at Ron. "What exactly has your panties in a bunch, Weasley? Feeling a bit behind on the latest gossip from the ladies?"

Ginny suddenly reached around Hermione, and ruffled his hair. Actually _ruffled_ his hair like he were a five year old child. Draco just sat there, looking shocked, like no one had ever dared _do_ that before. Their little corner of the room suddenly grew unusually quiet, everyone trying to come to terms with the very strange site of Draco sitting in the Weasley's living room, his hair a mess and Ginny grinning with her hand on his head.

Hermione tried really, really hard not to laugh. But then she did, and even the annoyed look Draco gave her couldn't stop the flood gates. How did this all even happen!? With two people like Draco and Ron, with such clashing personalities, she could have seen an actual fight brewing, but with one childish little gesture Ginny managed to make the whole thing ridiculous.

On top of this, the grinning girl added, "You can't just say 'Weasley,' Draco; there's too many of us! You'll make us confused!"

From across the room, without missing a beat, George added, "And some of us go commando, so very little panty-bunching going on!"

"Way more information than anyone needed!" Ginny threw back his way, scooting off the couch and onto the floor with Harry so she could grab Teddy. She smiled up at Hermione. "Hey, look! Teddy's been sporting black hair all day. I think he's trying to imitate Harry."

"Sporting black hair?" Draco asked, running a hand through his hair indignantly and trying to smooth it out.

"He's a metamorphogus like his mom," Hermione informed him.

"Whoa- is it just me, or are his eyes darker too?" Ron asked, now sufficiently distracted. That, or he had finally come to terms with the fact that no one was going to answer his questions while Draco and Hermione were still at the Burrow.

"Baby's eyes sometimes get darker, Ron," Harry said. "I know- news to me too. I think the only thing he's really figured out how to _change_ is his hair. At least he's settled down on that… for a while there, he looked like a walking disco ball, his hair changed so much."

It was odd how everything suddenly switched and seemed… almost normal. Like it was normal, Draco coming to the Burrow with her. Well, he was obviously still uncomfortable, even more so when they ate cake and Mrs. Weasley forced a second piece on him even after he informed her he wasn't hungry. And when he asked where the restroom was and George told him they all just went in a bucket in the back, and it took Draco several moments to realize he was kidding. And when Fleur started bugging Bill again about how "cute ze baby iz," and how "great it would be to 'ave a little one," and Ginny mocked her lightly, turning to Harry and saying, "Yez, 'arry. Let's all start 'aving cute little red-heads now. Ve could start ze color-coordinated Quidditch team."

"I do not see ze joke."

"No joke! Since everyone got paired off so quickly, and our family's known for being so gosh-darn prolific and lovable, I think we could _own_ the Gryffindor Quidditch team in another decade and a half. What say you, team?"

George laughed. "Hey, I call dibs on Beater for my hypothetical-future children."

"More like _mythical _children if you don't lay off the cake," Angelina said, poking him. "You're going to explode. Seriously, where are you _putting_ that? I think I'm getting diabetes just watching you."

"Years of practice," George winked his mother's way. "No one can say no to mum when she brings out cake number two…"

The evening continued in this manner, casual banter and jibes going hand in hand with laughter and birthday wishes for Ginny. It turned out Mr. Weasley had set up a portkey so Ron could visit for his sister's birthday, but he'd be heading back to Egypt before the night was out or risk dragging his wife across the world in the middle of the big lecture she was attending. Hermione missed her friend, but she was a little relieved he'd have time to digest the new information about Hermione's personal life before she'd have to see him again.

By the time they left, it was already getting dark outside, and Harry escorted them to the door.

He walked with them, Hermione in the middle like some unspoken barrier between the boys, a short ways from the house.

"Hey, I don't know if you're still an arrogant prat hiding out on the inside, but the illusion of 'decent human being' wasn't bad tonight, Draco," Harry said suddenly with a grin. Hermione could tell he had worked a lot on making that sentence lighthearted, but he seemed to really mean it.

"So glad to have your approval. You were a bit less of an attention-hogging egoist than usual, too, so maybe there's some kind of sickness going around."

Hermione shook her head. _This_ was actually what a decent conversation between the boys sounded like. Since it was such a new thing, she tried not to roll her eyes.

Harry stopped walking and glanced behind him. Hermione could see Ginny watching from the doorway, leaning casually with her arms wrapped around herself. It was a bit of a chilly night. "Hey, uh… I wanted to let you _both_ know, if there's any trouble in the coming weeks, you come straight to Grimmauld Place, okay?"

"Trouble?" Draco asked, looking incredulous. "Since when do either Hermione or myself find ourselves in trouble? Except for, you know, _constantly_?"

Harry shook his head. "I mean it… I don't know if you heard, but the Aurors have been trying to track down some missing people…"

"Missing people?" Hermione asked, her eyes sharp and her body language suddenly rigid. "Muggle-borns… it's the reason the Marriage Law will be repealed, isn't it?"

Draco stared at her, and she suddenly knew exactly why he had been in such a bad mood last night. That was the thing he was keeping from her… well, it didn't take a stretch of the imagination to figure out why the Ministry would actually admit to a mistake. People would have had to _die_, first.

She shivered. "Who?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Well, for starters Pansy and Pietro, though you two know where they are. Then… Terry Boot… a few others we don't know so well…. It's pretty bad, Hermione. Once people find out the Ministry and the Prophet have been keeping this quiet, they're going to demand action."

Hermione gasped when the heard Boot's name. She wasn't close to him at school or anything, but he still was in their year…"Didn't Boot marry Greengrass?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, the older one. She's missing too. Her and her brother."

Another of the Death Eaters that had slipped through their fingers that night. Damn.

"If you're worried about Hermione, don't be," Draco said, arms crossed. "The Manor's safe…"

"That's not the issue. The Marriage Law ending is the issue."

Hermione stared. Why would that be such an issue? "Harry…"

"If your father is getting out of Azkaban, and the Law is repealed, then what about Hermione? Are you two still going to see each other? Do you see what I'm getting at, here?"

Draco, to Hermione's immense surprise, nodded. He didn't get upset at Harry mentioning his father, and he didn't leave in a huff as she almost expected. "I know you think my father would stoop to hurting her, and I wish I could argue that it's impossible... I plan on going to Gringotts and withdrawing some funds to secret away later this week. I certainly don't need any charity from you, Potter. Harry. Whatever."

Hermione looked from one boy to the other, silent confusion evident on her face. What the hell were they talking about, exactly? "Why would you need…"

Draco's sharp eyes turned to her, and he sighed. "Just in case… even if we don't stay married, if I want to still see you it will cause problems. Best case scenario, I'll get kicked out of the Manor. Worst case scenario, I'll get disinherited."

Hermione felt her mouth fall open. "Are you being serious? Come on Draco… your mother wouldn't allow it…"

"When my father's home, my mother isn't in charge any more. And my father has had some very specific conversations with me in the past about what happens to pure-blood wizards who disobey their parents and run off with… well, there was some colorful language used."

Hermione could almost laugh. Almost. If it wasn't for the serious look on Draco's face, it would have all seemed so ridiculous.

It was his _parent's idea_ for him to marry her.

But he wasn't allowed to _date_ her.

What kind of crazy world had she found herself transplanted into?

"Like I said, if you two need someplace to stay, even if just for a little while, you're welcome. I'm not sure…exactly what's going on with, you know…" he pointed rapidly to them each on turn, obviously uncomfortable, "… your relationship. But in the end if you can get a divorce when the Marriage Law is repealed, then do it. Hermione doesn't need to always be trapped in the same place as you, Draco. And those rings are active until divorce, Law or no Law."

Draco nodded, taking Harry's words in stride.

What was happening, here? Hermione was beginning to feel like she was the only one who hadn't been putting great thought into the future if- _when_- the Law vanished. She had never for a moment thought that Draco's parents would turn him out of his own home… maybe she was right and they wouldn't, but wasn't it odd that she hadn't even thought through the possibility? She had known his parents wouldn't hurt him, but had never thought past that. In one night, Draco had obviously already thought through everything. He had recognized the consequences, and he still wanted to be with her? It was all a little insane, wasn't it?

No, what would be insane would be going through all of this- the wedding, the love potion, the kidnapping and subsequent rescue, Pansy's secret, and news of his father's release from Azkaban- and having it all amount to nothing. Insane would be letting him go after she was finally secure in her love for him.

So, it would be a bit of a fight. She was glad at least one of them had been thinking through the particulars.


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: I know some people have had trouble seeing chapter 30 and 31, but others have been reading it fine. I have no answers- I think it's a problem with the site. Please let me know if this problem persists, and maybe I can try reloading the chapters or something? Hmm..._

**Chapter 32: The Lie**

Hermione had been going to her apprenticeship all week, and Draco pretended he was going to his, too.

The house elves had, upon his request, moved her things to his room. Hermione had brought up the excellent point that they could have kept it quiet from his mother if they had moved things themselves, but it hadn't occurred to Draco at the time. He hated when Hermione's "House Elf Rights"-based opinions turned out to be correct.

It was Friday morning. Technically, it was Friday around noon, but after getting up early and pretending to go to the Ministry, Draco had gone back to bed for a couple hours. His mother would be going to the Ministry in just a few short hours to process his father's release paperwork and pick him up… and she fully expected Draco to go with her.

Of course he wanted to. He wanted to see his father… but at the same time he didn't. Everything was very muddled in his brain. Really, he was a mess.

On the one hand, his father might have an incredibly horrible dark magic book hidden somewhere, and he might have written a fake that almost got Hermione killed.

On the other hand, this was his _father_. Maybe the man had had no idea of the consequences writing the book would have. Maybe he didn't even do it. This was the person that had raised Draco into the person he was today, for better or for worse. He loved his father… though he was beginning to wonder if he could still _like_ him.

And on yet another unexpected hand, Draco was terrified of what life would be like with Lucius returning. It really did seem like horrible timing for Draco to move Hermione into his room now… but it was what he wanted. He didn't want to live his life based on the manipulations of others. This was his decision.

What if Hermione got into an argument similar to those she would get into with Narcissa? With Lucius, there would be no sly backhanded comments- he would probably straight-out threaten her. Lucius Malfoy wouldn't let any insult slide. When Draco imagined taking Hermione's side at the dinner table against his father, it was enough to make him nauseous.

His father wasn't a violent man, per say. He was a very respectable father, and Draco had rarely been punished for anything as a child. However, when Lucius set those cold eyes on someone else and insinuated and threatened, Draco had always believed him capable of following through. He knew for a fact that the man was extremely capable with all three unforgivables, and that alone was enough information to terrify the average witch. Why wasn't Hermione running for the hills, exactly?

Oddly, he thought of the lie-detector box in his father's study and tried to breathe again, adjusting his tie.

This wouldn't be that man. Not right away. He would have some time to adjust to his father being back home while he recuperated from the dementors. He would have time to evaluate the situation and decide what to do.

"Ah, Draco, you're dressed. Excellent," his mother said as he walked into the front sitting room. She was looking at her image in a mirror, adjusting her careful hairstyle. "We have a couple of things to discuss before we leave."

Draco took a deep breathe, trying to dispel the nervous churning in his stomach that had been building since he first woke up. "Such as?"

"Such as keeping things quiet." Narcissa gave him a sharp, meaningful look, and Draco was too stumped to even comment. "I know about where _that girl_ has been spending her nights, Draco. What you do with your personal time is no concern of mine… for now. However, you are not to mention to your father that the Marriage Law will soon be repealed. Probably by Christmas, if all goes well. You are not to even hint to him the upsetting way you seem to have let _her_ ingratiate herself to you. Trust me- we will be having a conversation very soon on that topic. But anything we might talk about will also escape your father's notice. Do you understand me?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I don't see how it's any of your-"

"If your father _does_ find out anything… unsettling about how you have been living these past couple months, I would ask that you excuse your behavior as a side effect of the new Law. You're with her because you _have_ to be. Do not give him anything to worry about… Lucius will need time to recover. He doesn't need a heart attack as soon as he comes home."

Draco snapped his mouth shut and just nodded. Anything he said wouldn't register anyways- why bother? Besides, keeping things quiet from his father sounded like the best idea he'd heard all week.

But it was clear his mother knew something was up. Or rather, she knew _everything _that was up. He could just tell, in the way she spoke and the way she glanced up at him, that she knew exactly how he felt about Hermione… and obviously, she didn't approve. Surprise, surprise.

They left, Draco following his mother as she flooed to the Ministry, the green flames engulfing them and taking them one step closer to his father's return home.

...

"Well, at least you knocked this time," said the dark haired girl in her most disdainful tone, standing back away from the door in an obvious invitation to come in.

Hermione slipped into the cottage, wondering exactly what she thought she was doing there. After work, she just couldn't bring herself to go home… well, she had _started_ to think of the Manor as home, anyways. She was certain that starting today, it would no longer feel that way.

From the moment she cleaned up her workstation for the day she had planned to head over to see Ginny. But for some reason, as she had prepared to apparate, the cottage had come into her mind, and she came here instead.

"Sorry to come without warning…" Hermione tried, shutting the door behind her.

Pansy snorted. "Like that would have made you any more welcome." She suddenly sighed, rubbing her neck. "No, actually, I don't mean that. I'm so desperately bored that even a visit from someone like _you_ is a welcome distraction."

"Er… glad to help?"

Pansy waved her to follow into the living room, and Hermione looked around for Pansy's game-changer husband. The one she had left everything for.

And that was why Hermione had come. Pansy knew more than anyone exactly what Draco would be going through, and Hermione wanted any information she could get. She really didn't think his parents would sell her out to Death Eaters- they wouldn't do that to their son. But would they really cut him from their lives? So easily? Like a loose string on your clothes?

She wanted Pansy's opinion. She _never_ thought she would want that, but there you go.

"Pietro's off with his cousin- the one who set us up with this place." Pansy said, noticing Hermione's inquisitive stare about the room. "I don't like him leaving… it's safer for me to leave- the most they'll do to me is return me to my parents. But once he gets something in his mind he just won't give up. Stubborn."

"What is it he has in mind?" Hermione asked, curious. What could be so important to leave the safety of the fidelius charm for?

Pansy sighed, picking up a half-empty cup of tea from the coffee table in front of her. "He's been transferring his inheritance into Galleons for years, now. His Gringotts vault is almost as full as my family's." Her fingers tapped at her teacup absentmindedly, her gaze stuck fast on the liquid inside. "He went to a muggle university after Hogwarts. Has a few friends overseas… we were planning on getting the hell out of here."

Something about her sentence… were. She said "were." They _were_ planning on leaving the country. What changed?

"He used a polyjuice potion, of course, and his cousin was going to help him out- escort him to the bank and watch his back."

"Polyjuice doesn't work in Gringotts…"

"Well, of course not. That's just how he got there unseen. If he didn't look like himself, the Goblins wouldn't give him his gold, now would they? We needed money if we were going to leave the country."

Needed. Were. An awful lot of past tense going on.

Hermione noticed that Pansy's hands were gripping her cup rather tightly in an effort to calm their shaking. "When?" she asked, her voice going dry as she started to put two and two together.

"Yesterday," Pansy said, suddenly taking a long gulp of tea. Hermione strongly suspected that it wasn't tea, actually... possibly a calming draught?

"And he didn't come back at midnight!?" Hermione asked, horrified.

Pansy shook her head.

That could only mean one of two things: Either someone had lost a finger, or he was dead. And here Hermione was going to complain about _her_ in-laws. Really, her problems didn't seem so bad at the moment.

"Why didn't you contact anybody!?"

"Really? Just because I didn't owl _you_, you think I didn't contact anyone? The Aurors know- but I'm sure you've noticed what a great job they've done finding Terry Boot."

"Okay, you're a recluse. How do _you_ know about that when I only found out last night? Nevermind. It doesn't matter. What did the Aurors say?"

"Well, I didn't meet them face to face." Pansy snorted. "Just an owl. I don't plan on trusting anyone but Draco, and by proxy, you, with this address."

"And…?"

Pansy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "They said it's too early to worry. Can you process the level of stupidity inherent in that sentence? _Too early_. A minute past midnight is late enough to worry." She placed a hand on her stomach in a subconscious protective gesture.

Hermione was inclined to agree. It was the only positive thing about the rings- they always brought you home if you were in trouble. Or at least, in theory… unless the worst has happened.

"You should have told us. Harry wouldn't consider this 'too early to worry.'"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "So that's your go-to plan? Call up Potter and hope all will go well?"

"I like to think of it as 'assemble the team, and all will go well.'"

Pansy raised an eyebrow, still fighting to look nonchalant even though her mug was now shaking. "Team?"

"You know… me with my research, Harry with his heroism, Ginny with her hexes and smart mouth, Ron with his random moments of seemingly-useless specialized knowledge, and Draco with his... er, 'I'll help if there's no other option' attitude." Hermione stood up, walking towards the door. "I'm going to get everyone together- I know I can't bring them here, so maybe you should come with me? To explain things?"

Pansy stared. She set her glass down carefully, her mouth set in a straight line. "You'll really do that? Get everyone together to find one man you don't even really know, for some girl you hate?"

Hermione sighed, feeling suddenly like they were wasting time. This was kind of urgent, right? If he was alive, they had to get to him quickly… even now, he could be on his last breath. "Yes! Of course! You're Draco's friend- so of course I'll help you. And I don't hate you. If you had sent word to Draco, I know he would have helped too."

Pansy jumped off the couch, nodding grimly. "I don't know what we can do. But thank you. I'll go with you- if there's even the slightest chance…"

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Both girls froze.

There were only two people who could be knocking on that door, and they weren't expecting either of them.

Hermione exchanged a look with Pansy, and as if on some silent signal they both moved to the door with stealth. Pansy stood to the side, wand drawn as Hermione reached out and jerked the door open quickly…. "You…"

Okay, so the options were limited. She half expected to see Draco out there, though that wouldn't have made any sense… Draco was at home with his family. He had no reason to come and see Pansy.

Which left just one option.

"You son of a bitch!" Pansy yelled, shoving Hermione out of the way roughly and slapping the man with an open palm. Pansy was a petite girl, and Pietro didn't look like he had really registered the attack at all.

"Hey, hey, calm down," he said as his chest was assailed by small fists furiously pounding at him.

Hermione felt like she had walked onto some kind of strange movie set. She hadn't expected all of this real-time drama unfolding before her when she popped by for a visit. Pietro was missing, probably dead, and now Pietro was here, smiling at his wife as if she were silly to have worried at all. It was like a soap opera.

"Come on, Pansy. Look, look!" he held up his hand, and both girl's jaws dropped.

He wasn't wearing a ring. The ring was gone.

"My cousin had a connection with some man in Knockturn Alley who claimed he could remove the rings. Isn't this great?"

"How?" Hermione asked, shocked. "How did he remove it?"

"Why?" Pansy asked, still furious. "_Why _would you remove it!? Why are you late!? Why didn't you send me an owl!?"

"Please, I will explain! Let's go to the sitting room. Come." He took her hand, leading her and whispering in her ear as they led the way right back to where Pansy and Hermione had started. Hermione was extremely interested in how he removed his ring… she had read up on the magic involved in the rings, and it was very high level stuff. She wasn't sure if she would be able to break the bond the ring formed once placed on a person, but even if she theorized how to do so she would never try it. What if it backfired? What if by trying to remove the ring, you simply triggered the pain spell and couldn't make it stop?

Too risky.

Once they were all sitting down, and Pansy looked like she probably was finished freaking out (though she did refill her…"tea"), Pietro explained how, after getting money from Gringotts, it was pointed out to him that the Ministry can track people from their rings.

Hermione knew that. It kept people from running away from their marriages. Unlawful imprisonment, in a nutshell.

"Is it such a stretch of the imagination that there are still traitors in the Ministry? I think not. And so, if we are to flee the country and stop living under fidelius protection, we must take these rings off, right? That is why I bought this."

Pietro pulled two objects from his pocket and placed them onto the coffee table. Hermione instantly picked them up, though they were obviously meant for Pansy to look at. "Wow," she said, turning the two rings over in between her fingers.

One was Pietro's ring, the other a strange, oversized dull black ring. There seemed to be some kind of matching insignia in each…

"Wait. The person who made the Ministry rings made this removal device?"

"Ring-removal-ring," Pansy muttered, shaking her head and holding out her hand for her chance to inspect them. Hermione handed her the black one… then paused. She looked closer at Pietro's ring, then gasped. "Well, I'll be damned."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Oh, Velma found a clue."

At that, Hermione flashed her an amused look, and Pansy sighed. "_He_ brought a TV into this house. It was certainly not my idea."

"What did you find?" Pietro asked, head cocked to the side.

"The insignia inside this… I should have known," she laughed lightly. "If the Ministry needed a complex device made that incorporated various kinds of advanced magic, who would they ask? A Metal Charmer. The best Metal Charmer. Both of these rings are made by Franklin Wright, my boss."

"Great. So my husband just spent a night hunting down back alley black-market ring-remover salesmen, when you could have put two and two together and got us one from the maker himself?"

"Er… possibly. I mean, I didn't know he would make ring removers… this must be a little act of defiance against the Ministry, distributing these." Hermione laughed again. "It's a brilliant bit of magic- not just anyone could make these. Fantastic."

"So glad you approve," Pansy muttered, slipping the black ring on over her own. It glowed a bright orange for a moment, but Pansy didn't start screaming like it was molten so Hermione didn't flinch. In an instant, she was able to slip both rings off- no pain.

"And, to replace the dog collars the ministry put on us…" Pietro said, digging in his pocket. He produced two small boxes, opening one to reveal a lovely gold band with a green inset stone. Pansy smiled, and it seemed she had forgiven his disappearing act entirely as he slipped the ring on her finger.

Now Hermione felt like she wasn't supposed to be there… there was something intimate in the way the two were looking at each other, and she had the urge to flee the scene in front of her. It was sweet, the way they held hands… and if it had been a friend, Hermione would have "aww"-ed. But Pansy was not a friend. She was a friend of a friend, and the two girls could still barely tolerate each other.

Hermione stood up. "Uh, well… guess you didn't need me after all, huh?" she said, heading for the door.

"What do you mean?" Pansy asked, wrenching her gaze away from her husband's. "I didn't ask for help- _You_ came _here_. Why _did_ you come here, anyways?"

"No reason… never mind. I'm going to head home now…"

"It's Lucius, isn't it?"

Hermione blinked. Pansy really did have a lot of knowledge of the outside world for a girl trapped in a cottage all summer. "I… well, I haven't actually seen him yet, but essentially… yes. I just want to put off going back to the Manor as much as possible…"

"Then why not visit your own friends?"

Hermione shrugged, unsure of what she was looking for, exactly.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Sit down." Hermione obeyed, dropping back to the couch for what felt like the millionth time. "Look- I never liked you…"

"Well, thanks for the pep-talk Pansy…"

"Shut up. I never liked you before, but I'm starting to see that having someone around who's dumb enough to help even if it's a huge pain in the ass might not be so bad. You were about to run off to save this idiot-" she punctuated the statement with a light tap on Pietro's shoulder and a half smile, "-so I'd love to be able to help you out. I'd love to be able to tell you it'll all be okay… but that would be a gigantic lie. The Malfoys are a very old family, very hard-set on tradition. Draco might not have liked the Death Eater life, but his father most certainly did. Up until the Dark Lord started to be disappointed in him, that is. Lucius has no problem doing whatever is necessary if he thinks it's for the protection of his family. A lot like my own parents. They think the best thing for me is to drag me home and make me live their way, whatever the cost."

"So… what do you think he'll do?" Or try to do, rather. Hermione wasn't scared of Lucius. She was just scared of what might change between her and Draco because of him.

"You actually came here for my advice? Well it isn't what you want to hear- back off. That's what you should do. Don't fuck around with Lucius Malfoy, because he is a lot scarier than my parents, I'll tell you that."

"I'm not scared of him." She meant it. After everything she had faced in her teen years, Lucius seemed like a bit-player. A minion. If it came down to it, she was confident she could take him.

"Then you are not smart. Do you think he'll get outraged and charge right at you? Let me tell you exactly what will happen: If he gets even the smallest hint that you and Draco have any relationship other than what the Ministry has enforced, then first he will find a way to warn you. He won't be subtle, but he will be clever and non-incriminating. If you ignore him, he'll find a way to get rid of you that won't lead to a direct confrontation. Make it look like an accident."

"You're saying he would kill me? Truly? He wouldn't dare- the Ministry is watching him…"

"The Ministry won't be watching him as closely these days. Not since Draco saved your life, and not since they have a slew of missing person's cases piling up. And as I said- it'll look like an accident. You're in _his_ house. It's not your home turf. What is that phrase? From some muggle sports game… you said it once, Pietro."

"The ball's in his court?" Pietro said.

Pansy snapped her fingers, pointing at Hermione. "Exactly!"

Hermione nodded. She could see Pansy's point. She just didn't know what options that left her with. "What would _you_ do… if it was you?"

"If it was me?" Pansy asked, her voice getting quiet. She looked up at Pietro, then back at Hermione. "If it was _me_, I would ignore my own advice. I wouldn't back off. I would take my husband and get somewhere where the ball _was_ in my court."

...

Every hour or so, Draco took a turn about the house. Looking for her.

She was late home from work, but of course he expected that. She wouldn't want to come straight home, and he didn't blame her. If it wasn't for his mother's persuasive snappy voice, he wouldn't have wanted to stick around either… but for a very different reason.

His father was much worse than the last time he had gone to Azkaban. Perhaps the man had worse memories, now, for the dementors to feed on. Perhaps it was just due to the longer stay. Either way, Lucius Malfoy was disturbingly frail looking, his body bent and his long blond hair brownish and straggly. He had grown a beard, which was understandable since they didn't exactly give prisoners in that hell-hole a blade to shave with, but the overall image was so unfamiliar to Draco he almost didn't recognize him. When they first brought Lucius out, Draco had thought, 'That's the wrong guy. They're giving us the wrong person.'

He and his mother had brought Lucius home by floo, and his mother, with a word about meeting again for dinner, had ushered his father off to their rooms.

And that was it. Draco didn't get a word from his father, and he didn't give any in return. He knew to expect this… but it was still terrifying.

'Because you're sad to see someone you love in that condition,' a voice in his head questioned, 'or because you know it could have been you?'

A very good question. Draco decided against answering it, because either way it sucked.

That same voice persisted, however much he tried to drown it. 'Maybe he'll never recover. Then there'll be no one standing between you and Hermione. That's what you're really worried about, right?'

No. Yes. Crap.

No. No, he would rather his father be safe and healthy again, and get yelled at and disowned. In a strange way, that was the best-case scenario. It was better than this.

He thought he heard a distant "crack" echo down the halls, and rushed to where he thought it came from. Definitely not her side of the Manor… but then it wasn't _her_ side anymore, right? Either way, she was more towards the front.

He walked speedily from room to room, starting to get frustrated at the sheer size of his own house. Finally, he just called for a house elf. The one that appeared was tiny and a little greyish. He didn't know it's name… it was younger, so he was probably at Hogwarts when it was born. House elves age pretty quickly, so he assumed this one was up to the task of telling him where his wife was.

"In young Master's bedroom, she is," the little thing squeaked. Draco nodded, and walked purposefully away. He should have just done that to begin with- ask an elf to tell him when she arrived.

When he got to his room, she was pacing. She walked from his displayed quidditch equipment all the way to wardrobe at the far end of the room. "Hi," she said quickly, which was just shy of ignoring him completely.

"Uh… hi," Draco acknowledged. He didn't know what he expected. Maybe he thought she would run to his arms and demand affirmations of his love for her? Give him some sweet teary words?

No. He got 'hi.'

She continued to pace, chewing on her thumbnail as she went.

"So, my day's been just fantastic. Thanks for asking," Draco mumbled, making his way to sit down on the edge of his bed. The sun was still shining- they had about an hour until dinner. But suddenly Draco felt so tired.

"I went and saw Pansy today."

Okay, that got his attention. "You what? And _why_?"

Hermione sighed, finally stopping her pacing. "I guess I just wanted the company of her cheerful personality."

Sarcasm. Great.

"She told me… well, she said I should split, basically. And then she said I should take you with me."

Draco stared. Pansy had said this to her? A few months ago, he wouldn't have believed it. He still had trouble believing it- she had a good reason to run, but Draco didn't. His family wasn't out to kill anyone.

Probably.

"Hermione… I don't know what she told you, but there's really nothing to be afraid of-"

"I'm not afraid!" she suddenly yelled, shocking Draco silent. Her eyes grew wide, as if she suddenly realized how odd her outburst seemed. "I mean…. I'm not afraid, in the traditional sense, I suppose. I just… I don't want there to come a time when I have to leave, and not be sure of you coming with me."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. This was why she was upset? What, exactly, had Pansy told her? "Haven't I made myself clear? If we get thrown out of here…"

"No, not thrown out. No one wants to throw _you_ out. You're parents want you here- they love you. So what would they do to keep you?"

"I see Pansy somehow managed to fill you with paranoia…"

Hermione shook her head, coming to sit next to him on the bed. "No, I just need time to think. I'm… I'm fine. Nevermind. I'm okay." She looked up suddenly. "Hey, I brought you a present."

She produced a little black box, and held it up to him. Feeling a little thrown by the sudden change in subject. He took it, turning it around in his hand before opening it.

"It's, uh… what is it?" Draco asked, perplexed, as he held up the little black circle.

"Pietro got it, and him and Pansy are finished with it, so they gave it us."

"It's, uh… not like some kind of sex toy, is it?"

"Are you making a joke to try and make me uncomfortable, or are you being serious right now? It's for our rings! It can removed the rings, you dolt."

Draco smirked, taking a closer look at the black loop in his hand. He shook his head. "Well, if you say so. I don't know how they got something that could break the spells on these things…."

"From the same man I'm apprenticed under, actually. In addition, I saw Pansy use it, too. It works."

Draco frowned thoughtfully now. "We shouldn't use it just yet," he said, and Hermione nodded.

"I agree. There's no need to raise any flags with your family anyways. If we stopped wearing the rings, then there wouldn't be anything keeping me here."

"That, and they come in handy now and then. Like when one of us is in mortal danger."

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, they do do that. While causing mind-numbing pain and occasionally ruining my rare girl's night out."

Draco stared at the thing in his hand. Something about the gesture of her giving it to him… what did it mean, that she wanted to remove their rings? When the Marriage Law was repealed, they could get a divorce and remove them that way. For many reasons, Draco found this to be a bad idea, but he wasn't sure how to voice his concerns to Hermione.

Maybe this was her way of saying she wouldn't mind staying married to him? They could remove the horrible rings, and maybe get real one's…

No. Hermione was a practical, thoughtful kind of person. She didn't rush into things if she could avoid it. She wouldn't want to stay married to him just because it was easier… but maybe if he were more clear about what he wanted, she might change her mind?

_'__You're not my husband in my mind- you're my boyfriend.' _Those were her exact words before. Maybe he was over-thinking things again, but it clenched something in his heart to revisit those words. He thought that, when he told her he loved her, she would understand what that meant. He didn't want her to leave him, even if they would still be a 'couple.'

He wanted _more_ from her. Was he being selfish? Expecting too much?

Definitely.

He sighed, closing the box and storing it in the drawer in his bedside table.

"Hey…" Hermione said, putting a hand on his face and turning him towards her. "I've decided something fantastic in the past thirty seconds."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sick of worrying so much. I love you, and I plan on sticking with you."

"I feel the same."

"Then let's both stop being so damn dramatic… and I think I'll avoid any pep talks from your friends again, thanks."

"Yours too- or have you forgotten Potter ready for us to move in with him?"

Hermione snickered, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Sometimes I think the only normal predictable thing in my life is work. How about your internship? Meet any high-ranking Goblins yet? Make coffee for the Minister of Magic? Send a fax to the sister office in Peru?"

"Fax?"

"It's a way of sending papers… oh, nevermind."

"I know what a fax is- and even Wizards think they're ancient," Draco joked, smirking.

She kissed him, then, and he wondered if it was mostly to shut him up. He was certainly glad for the change in subject.

He still hadn't told her he had quit the damn internship.


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: _

_Ring clarification for those still confused: The rings bring the spouse to the Primary Provider at midnight. This is the person with the most magical assets to their name, as determined by the ministry at the time of petition. So, Pansy was named the Primary in her relationship. Draco in his, Ron in his (meaning his wife was hella poor), etc. It has nothing to do with gender. _

**Chapter 33: The Ghosts of Malfoy Manor**

"Draco, your mother tells me you were working with the Ministry briefly this summer."

"Ah… yes, the Goblin Liason Office."

His father nodded stiffly, a hint of approval in the gesture. "Good. It's nice to see you have been using your time wisely while I was away- from now on, however, we will be focusing on more important educational matters."

"Mother mentioned there were many aspects of the family funds that I'm still… unprepared to handle."

"Woefully unprepared," his father informed him, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. "Things I meant to begin teaching you in the summers when you were in school… If things were not so hectic these past few years, you would be sitting in a position of power at the Ministry right now. Or a position of power behind the Ministry. Either way, it is not just your education to blame… too much has happened to this family for us to just go back to the way we were. It will all take time, and patience."

"I'm aware," Draco said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. His father had been gone a year- the hardest year, right after the war. Didn't he realize how much his wife and son had done to try and repair their family name? No one needed his lectures. They were quite aware of where the Malfoys stood in society at the moment.

Then again, it was almost disturbing how quickly his father was _capable_ of lecturing. In the few short hours since he had first seen the man, he had transformed. Certainly Lucius still looked malnourished, and there was a haunted look in his eyes that Draco expected would never really go away… but otherwise, he was almost his old self. It was amazing what a shower, a slew of potions, and whatever else his mother had given him could do.

Er, Draco didn't really want to think about that last one too much.

Draco expected dinner with his family to be as awkward and blaringly silent as their journey from the ministry that afternoon. No such luck.

"And as for the mudblood woman you were saddled with…"

Charming.

"...has everything been going smoothly? How much of the family funds has been allocated to her care?"

Like she was a new pet they had to buy food for.

"The minimum, Lucius," his mother replied. "She seems quite capable of living cheaply-"

"No doubt." Lucius nodded, shuffling around the food on his plate slightly. He didn't seem very hungry, despite his sunken form. "I wouldn't expect her to be used to spending gold. It doesn't matter either way- you've done well keeping her from any complaints, it seems. As long as she doesn't have anything to go blabbing to the press, then it can only look good for us."

That was how the situation started, wasn't it? That's exactly how Draco had felt at the beginning. How arrogant, to think she would expect them to take care of her. She could take care of herself. She never took their gold because she didn't _need_ it.

His mother was nodding enthusiastically, and it was making Draco feel sick.

"I think we can honestly say Draco has done a lot in the past year for the sake of this family." She stared right at him, then, and he almost felt as if her eyes were burning a hole through his skull and right into his thoughts. "We couldn't hope for a better son."

He didn't know what to make of that. Were the words meant to remind him of his duty to the family, or where they meant to be taken honestly? "Thanks mother," he settled on, taking a bit of roast beef and staring down at the table.

"I've heard, Draco, that you had a bit of a disagreement with your mother regarding the only option to dissolve this unfortunate union- a child. I have to say I agree completely with your disgust on the matter. Your mother worries about you almost to a fault- she wanted you to escape that Granger girl at all costs, but there are some things a man just cannot do."

Narcissa frowned at her husband. "Lucius, it's past. There's nothing more to talk about on the subject, and I've come to terms with that."

Lucius nodded, smiling at his son. Draco knew his father was proud of him for not wanting to end up with a half-blood heir, which really wasn't the point behind his disgust with the concept.

How had his father become someone so alien to him?

That being the case, Draco suddenly realized he had no idea what his father would do if he knew the truth. No idea what-so-ever. He didn't really even know what the man was capable of- had he written that book? Tried to have Hermione killed?

It wasn't like Draco could just bring it up in conversation, so he might never know.

Draco certainly didn't want a confrontation, and every minute spent at dinner was building at a little ball of anger inside him. He knew how to hide his feelings, and he knew how to play along with the conversation… but if that little ball kept growing, he might eventually make a mistake.

"You do know there are ways to remove those rings," Lucius said, nodding at Draco's wedding band.

"Huh?" His father's comment threw his brain off its current line of thought.

Lucius nodded. "Of course, if we pay the right people they could come up with a way. Nothing the Ministry makes is ever as permanent as they like to think. There are certain spells on those bands that must make life… difficult for you, son."

"Oh, Lucius…" his mother started, her voice vaguely admonishing but mostly just tired.

"He's not a child anymore, Narcissa, and I'm sure he doesn't want to be stuck with his only option being the Granger girl. He was brave enough having to put up with her for one night."

Once again Draco could almost hear his very own thoughts, only a couple months ago, echoed in his father's words. God, he was a prick back then. Is that really how he sounded?

Draco cleared his throat. "I actually already have a way to remove the rings, father, thank you. I have opted not to use it, since it would hardly reflect well on our family if I was seen as disloyal to my new wife." There. He could still put on an act like a proper Malfoy.

"Well, of course you must be discrete… this is a unique and troubled situation you have found yourself in Draco. I'm impressed at how you have handled it." His father was proud of him. This was what he had always wanted.

Draco tried to a flash his father a small smile, but he was sure it ended up looking forced.

"Well, I believe the elves have made your favorite cake for dessert, Lucius," his mother said suddenly, and it felt to Draco like she was deliberately changing the subject.

She met his eyes, and Draco wondered exactly what _she_ would do if his father ever found out the truth.

...

Hermione picked up her book for the fourth time, refusing to resume her pacing. She had decided she was done worrying about her relationship problems- there was plenty else to worry about in the world. That didn't change the fact that she was left alone with her thoughts, trapped in Draco's bedroom, and damn bored. She had read the books from her trunk many times before, but for some reason she was hesitant to go to the library and pick something else up.

She was scared to walk around her own home? No way. She couldn't let herself get like that. As she had thought before, she could handle Lucius. He wasn't even an enemy, per say, as long as he didn't find out about her and Draco. So what was she scared of?

She shook her head and stomped purposefully to the door, flinging it open. She wouldn't exactly barge in on their dinner party, but this was still her home too. She was free to go anywhere she wanted- she wasn't on lock-down.

Still, she kept a hurried pace, the dark empty house once again feeling a bit on the creepy side.

Suddenly, she saw something from the corner of her eye: a white wisping shadow gliding past a door down the long empty hall. It was gone in an instant, but Hermione was certain she had seen it.

A ghost? Did Malfoy Manor have ghosts? Well, if it were any relation of the family's, she was certain it wouldn't be a pleasant experience to run into it. She should leave well enough alone and keep heading to the library.

Still… curiosity took over, and with her wand lit Hermione began to walk down the dark windowless hallway. "Hello?" she tried, calling out for the apparition.

No answer.

As she rounded a bend down into a small, rather empty living space, she paused.

There was an attic door, the trap pulled down with a ladder waiting for her.

"Hello?" she asked again, wondering what kind of rude ghost wouldn't even give her the courtesy of an answer. It wasn't the ghost that scared her- she had seen plenty of them at Hogwarts, and for the most part they were harmless. But the creepy atmosphere, and most of all the silence, were picking at her nerves.

She walked forward to the small square open in the ceiling, putting one hand on the ladder hesitantly. She had no idea where in the house she was right then, and this could very well be some kind of trap. Should she really just go poking around in random attic spaces in Malfoy Manor?

Just then, a head appeared, peering down at her silently from the hole in the ceiling, making Hermione gasp in surprise. Her heart thudded, staring up in those ghostly white eyes. It was a woman, her witch's robes of a faintly older style. Not too old, though. Not old enough to be some ancient specter haunting the place.

And, if Hermione had to put money on it, the woman didn't look like a Malfoy. Throughout most of the pictures she had seen in the Manor, the Malfoys had a rather distinct look about them. Same pointed nose, same blond hair, same sharp eyes… at least, those who were Malfoys by blood. Hermione supposed the woman could have married into the family.

This woman was frowning with thin lips, her eyes rather large and doe-like. Her hair appeared to be dark, but it was hard to tell with ghosts sometimes. Without a word, she raised a hand and crooked a single finger, clearly indicating Hermione should come up.

"Why should I?" Hermione asked, suddenly indignant at being ordered around by this ghost without a word of reason.

The woman's eyes narrowed and grew hot with anger. She seemed to be grinding her teeth, but it was hard to tell. She opened her mouth, and it appeared to cost her a great effort to say, "Book."

Hermione blinked. Book? Could this woman know what book she had been looking for these past few weeks?

With a nod, Hermione followed the shimmering white creature up the ladder. She poked her head up first, taking a look around.

It was dark. Hermione brought up her wand, and could make out what looked like any person's attic: A room filled with boxes and small furniture covered by sheets. There was no sign of the ghost.

Hermione was beyond annoyed at this ghost's lack of hospitality. She could at least show Hermione _where_ the book was. There were tons of boxes in the attic… oh, well. She figured she might as well get to work. She peeled back the tape on one neatly packed box, shuffling through it. It was filled with old toys- little brooms and animals that still had enough magic in them to do little somersaults when they saw her. She smiled. Draco's old things, perhaps?

She closed the box, moving on.

She saw a flash of white, and whirled around. For the briefest of moments, there was a very different ghost, sitting by a large sheet-covered lump and looking up at her with wide eyes. It was a baby. Maybe a toddler? No more than two years old. She blinked, and it was gone.

A shiver went up her spine. Despite her experience with ghosts in the past, something about seeing one so young was extremely off-putting. She wanted nothing more than to leave that attic… she should just go back down the ladder, back to Draco's comfortable room, and wait for him. He might even be back by now.

After seeing that tiny transparent thing, she could really do with a warm hug.

She wrapped her arms around herself, knowing full well that she couldn't retreat, not when she was obviously very close to finding what they had been searching for. With a shaky hand, she reached for the sheet covering some big piece of furniture where the baby had been sitting.

She pulled back, revealing a crib.

She gulped, inspecting the thing further. For some reason, she was now very sure that these were not Draco's old things… this was something else. Why would a family as rich as the Malfoys even bother keeping old furniture, unless it had sentimental value? How long had all of this sat up here? A crib was a crib, and Hermione couldn't tell if the white-painted thing was a hundred years old or made last week. She had no idea.

There was a lump under a small crocheted blue blanket in the crib. Hermione could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she reached for it, her wand-light casting odd shadows about the room as she bent over. She pulled back the small blanket, and saw a pile of yellowed papers clipped neatly together.

Across the top of the front page, it said "_Secrets__ of the Darkest Art_" in clear black typewriter ink.

...

When he saw that Hermione was no longer in his room, Draco headed to the library. It was the next logical place to find her, and anyways he felt like looking through another brewing book. The two had filled most of the empty spaces on the shelves already, and they needed a new project… Draco mainly wanted something to take his mind off of dinner.

And, as he expected, Hermione was sitting in the library, looking down at what he presumed was a book held low on her lap. She had chosen her usual chair by the window, despite the fact that it was too dark outside to see the lovely garden now. She had lit all of the lanterns in the library- _all _of them. This seemed a little strange to Draco. She didn't usually bother with that much light. It probably took her a good five minutes, since she never asked house elves to help her, and the huge space was lit-up like the sun.

She looked up when he walked in, her eyes wide as saucers. "Draco," she said, waving him forward frantically even as she stood up and met him halfway across the room. "Look at this."

She was holding a stack of papers, slightly yellowed with age. _Secret__s__ of the Darkest Art_. She had found the typed copies, the original fake before it had been published.

"Holy… how did you even find that!? I tore this place up looking for the book…"

"It wasn't in any office space or storage of your father's," Hermione said. She looked a little spooked, her eyes still wide and her skin a little too pale. "I found it in an attic, by the south side of the Manor."

"The south side?" That was where they often had guests stay, but otherwise they rarely used those rooms at all. "What bit of brilliance brought you to look there?" he asked, impressed. How could she have found something so small in a house so big in a space Draco wasn't even aware existed?

She shook her head. "I don't know who, but a ghost led me there."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "A ghost? Hermione… I've _never_ seen a ghost in this house."

"It's an old house, right? Maybe they're here, but don't like to make themselves known." Hermione put a finger to her chin in thought, tapping. "The real question is why would the ghost care? Why lead me to this manuscript? Why not lead me to the original book, the one we're really looking for?"

Draco shook his head. He hadn't the slightest idea. "It's not the original book, but it does prove that someone in this house wrote it…" Was that why she looked so freaked out? The closer he looked at her, the more she seemed like she was actually frightened. "What's wrong?" he asked, deciding to go for the direct approach.

Hermione stepped forward suddenly, pressing herself to him even as she gripped the manuscript to her chest. "Can I get a hug?" she asked in a very small voice, and Draco wrapped his arms around her as his eyes widened in surprise. What wasn't she telling him about her evening book-hunt?

She hummed happily as he held her tightly, sighing. "Thanks. I just…I saw two ghosts, actually. One of them kind of got to me… it was a baby."

"A baby?" Now Draco was very confused. True, this house was old, but he had never heard of any babies dying anywhere around the place. He wasn't even aware that babies could _become_ ghosts, actually. He could certainly see why Hermione was disturbed- the idea even shook him up a bit.

"Yeah… I found a lot of baby things in that attic." She held up the papers, breaking back from their hug in the process. "I found these in a crib. Tell me that isn't straight out of some horror movie…"

Draco wasn't sure about horror movies, but it did seem rather creepy.

She sighed. "Still, it doesn't tell us anything we don't know. So, Lucius wrote this and hid it in an attic with a lot of old baby things for some reason. That doesn't tell us… anything… new…." She was getting a very strange, bright look in her eyes now, her fright dissipating as some realization hit her. "These papers! They're not new!"

"Well, no…"

"I mean, look at them Draco! They're yellow! It was dry and cool up in the attic- these are not one year old papers. If Lucius did write the fake book, it wasn't last summer like you thought!" Hermione began to pace again, her voice almost manic in excitement. "But that means he would have known about the Horcruxes long ago… impossible! He would never have given Ginny that diary if he knew what it really was! He would have known Voldemort would punish him… So he didn't know about Horcruxes when this was written! It wasn't him!" She whirled to face Draco, her eyes wide. "It wasn't your father, Draco! He didn't write this!"

Draco was having real problems following Hermione's logic. "Diary?" he asked, perplexed.

"Yes, yes… your father was asked to look after an old diary of Voldemort's…"

"The Dark Lord's… diary." Draco had a sudden image in his mind of the Dark Lord sitting on his stomach on a bed, writing enthusiastically like a fourth year school girl: _Dear Diary, I had a fantastic time killing mudbloods and muggles today. You wouldn't believe what Bellatrix was wearing, oh my god…._

Draco shook his head, trying to displace the image.

"It wasn't just a diary… it was Tom Riddle's diary. Voldemort before he was Voldemort. He had made it a Horcrux, but of course your father didn't know that. Your father thought it was just a dark artifact. He probably hoped it would hurt Ginny, but he didn't actually know anything about it, otherwise he wouldn't have thrown it away like that. Harry destroyed it second year."

"Of course he did," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "How many times, exactly, did Harry destroy the Dark Lord? I feel like there's a lot I'm missing."

"Depends on if you consider Horcruxes "Voldemort." Which I do. Which means personally, he killed him about four times. I think. I lose count." She shook her head. "And don't change the subject- the main point is that your father didn't know about Voldemort's Horcuxes, so he didn't have a reason to write this book. It must have been someone else… hell, if this place was a base for Voldemort, any of his subjects could have hidden this manuscript up here. Maybe it was written during the first war, based on the aging it's been through, and stashed here during the second war?"

Draco tilted his head, considering. He was still trying to reconcile the relief that his father didn't write this book on muggle-killing with the horror that his father had tried to kill Ginny second year. "Perhaps. Doesn't that just make our search wider? Really, this seems like a couple steps backwards. And who were the ghosts you saw? I feel like they must be connected somehow…"

"Maybe… maybe the woman I saw was a Death Eater- maybe she discovered Voldy's secret, wrote the book in an effort to stop anyone else from doing the same thing, and were discovered." Draco tried not to cringe at her nickname, 'Voldy.' She really was just too comfortable using _his_ name. She must have picked that up from Harry. "Voldemort would certainly kill anyone he suspected knew about his Horcruxes- they were his most important secret. I don't know the faces of _all_ the Death Eaters or their victims… Draco, was there ever a woman with dark hair killed by Voldemort? Here at the Manor?"

Draco gulped, a slew of unwanted and willingly repressed memories flooding to the front of his mind. "Uh… a few."

Hermione stared at him, her mouth falling open. "Few?"

"Yeah…I saw… oh, hell, Hermione, I saw a lot of people die that year."

Hermione was silent for a moment, her eyes studying him. "If you saw her, maybe you would recognize her?"

"Maybe." He felt his mouth dry out like it was full of cotton. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to remember that year.

Hermione nodded. "We'll have to look for her. If she can lead us to the one she copied, the real book, then all is well…"

"If the manuscript is old, then she probably used the same book you burnt. You said you thought the copy you had had was the only copy- maybe you were right all along." Which meant that there was no longer a purpose behind them finding the writer of the fake book. Which meant they could just drop the subject, and forget all about it, and never talk about the Dark Lord and Horcruxes and murder and little pieces of Terry Boot ever again…

No, she wouldn't give up that quick. She would want answers, even if no one would ever be able to actually make a Horcrux again. She was the curious type.

For some reason, Draco had a very bad feeling about all of this…

...

She had cornered him. Saturday was meant to be a relaxing brewing day with Hermione, but instead he was currently sitting in his mother's favorite parlor, the tall woman casting muffliato charms around the room. Finally, she took a seat across from him.

The room was heavily perfumed with the scent of roses, and a lot of feminine touches were present that clearly marked the place as his mother's territory. This was where she usually took him to chastise him when he was a boy, when he ran in the house and scrapped his knee, or when he and Pansy stole what they thought was liquor in the summer after first year. It turned out to just be grenadine, and the sugary syrup did nothing but give them both stomach aches and get them into trouble.

"Draco, I appreciate how well you did at dinner last night," his mother said, and Draco held his breath as he waited for the "but."

"However," she continued as expected, "I think it's time we actually stopped and talked about Hermione."

Not "that girl," not "your wife," not "the mudblood." Hermione. His mother actually sounded quite civil, at the moment.

"Talk about her _how_?" Draco asked, trying to maintain his own tone of civility despite the feeling that he was trapped and being interrogated by his mother.

Narcissa sighed heavily, rubbing at her forehead as she leaned back in her chair. "Draco, I'm so sorry things turned out this way. I really am. You should never have even been put in this position, and then you were told you would have to spend your life with her… it's no wonder this happened. You're such a good boy, and after all the horrible things you've seen, it makes sense that you should seek out a little happiness."

He didn't interrupt, waiting for his mother to continue as she picked up her tea and sipped at it. "Draco, do you love her?"

The question shocked him. His mother was asking him, opening and honestly. What should he say? Should he lie? What good would it do him at this point, since he suspected his mother knew the truth already?

"Yes," he answered simply in a voice just above a whisper, not meeting his mother's eyes.

She leaned forward, placing her face in one hand while still holding onto her tea with the other. "Oh, Draco…"

"Mother, please…" Draco really didn't want to see his mother cry again. Not over this.

"Draco… you're my son. I love you so much, and you'll never really understand what that means until you have children of your own. God, just to think that this was _our_ choice... we should have left the country, then you wouldn't have had to go through this…"

"Go through what, mother? Falling in love? Because personally, I don't find it so terrible."

"Don't be smart with me," she said, lifting her red-rimmed eyes up to meet his. "You know perfectly well what I mean. _You have to let her go_. When the Law is lifted, _end_ it…. Please?"

Draco had been, from the start of her sentence, preparing a series of angry words on his tongue. But the moment his mother added that small, desperate 'please,' he faltered. How could he make her understand that he couldn't let Hermione go, just because it would be easier? "Mother… I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know how I'll feel in the future, but right now I can't just flip a switch and stop loving her. I know how you feel about this, and I know how father will feel about this, but nothing can change how _I feel_…"

"Draco…." She looked frighteningly close to crying again, and Draco felt so helpless. He could only tell her the truth, and the truth could only hurt his mother. She couldn't understand, not really.

"It's no longer up to me what happens next. I'm staying with her, no matter where we go. If father sends me out of the house, then that's his business. If he cuts me off, that's his business. I can't do anything about it. I'm sick of living how other people tell me to live."

"I can't lose you!" Narcissa said suddenly, her voice fierce. "Draco, I can't lose you like this! If your father finds out…" She got to her feet, took a deep breath, and ran a hand over her carefully styled hair. "Fine. I can see you will be stubborn on this. Thank you for telling me the truth- now we must both work to keep this a secret. When the Law ends, we will deal with the consequences. I _won't_ let him send you away, Draco. You have me on your side in this, if only because it was our own fault you were paired with her in the first place. You are acting like a fool, but you are young and you are entitled. I'll protect you."

Draco could only stare after his mother in awe as she walked out of the room, his jaw dropping as he tried to process her words.

His mother would protect him, even if she disagreed with his choices.

Something heavy inside of him suddenly felt a little lighter.


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34: The Overdue Vacation**

Hermione was snooping. She knew she was snooping, and there wasn't even a good excuse. Now that they knew the fake book had been written years ago, the likelihood that there was a surviving copy of the real _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ was slim, at best. The one they burned after the war probably _was_ the only copy, afterall. Someone else had just gotten their hands on it first.

But her curiosity was getting the better of her. Who had read that book? Who were the two ghosts she had seen?

And so, she had started snooping, looking for something, _anything_ that could give her a clue in the old attic storage room. There was a lot of old junk up there besides the baby things- which she could barely touch without getting freaked out. She knew that the baby had died, since she had seen it's ghost. _His_ ghost. The blanket had been baby blue...

There was something incredibly eerie and depressing about looking through a dead baby's things.

But the other side of the room had many other objects, including a box of Slytherin memorabilia. A set of old fashioned green robes with a snake crest, a banner, a photo album…

So far, the photo album was the most interesting thing she had found in the room. It was filled with black and white moving pictures of smiling, happy students in the Slytherin common room, at the Yule Ball, at a picnic by the Great Lake… it was all so normal, so human, and it was hard to imagine the people in the photo's becoming killers.

But that's what many of them became. Hermione saw Bellatrix Lestrange… Bellatrix _Black_ in several of the photos. And there was Andromeda, looking young and happy with a group of friends playing Quidditch. Then there was Narcissa… she was beautiful. Hermione would have expected that, since even at her forty-something years now she was quite pretty, though her bad attitude often made it hard to tell. Her expression was serene in the picture Hermione found, her face turned towards the front of a classroom but her eyes darting to the side every once in a while to look at the person taking the picture.

Hermione wondered what it meant that she had found such a relatively recent photo album up here. The things stored in this room… were they roughly from the same time period? Did someone in this photo album write the book, and store the baby furniture up here? Or was it all a coincidence- everyone had old photo albums they shoved in storage and never looked at again. It was pretty common.

Hermione flipped to the front of the book, and saw that an unfamiliar name was printed there. "Property of Franny Fortune," the looping girly script pronounced, and Hermione searched her memory to try and place the name. Nope. She had never heard it before.

She should ask Draco. He knew a lot more Death Eaters than she did, though she knew reminding him of that fact was like punching him in the stomach.

She flipped through a little longer, and then she realized she had only been looking for people she knew… what about the ghost? Could _she_ be in the pictures?

Hermione went back, looking through some of the group shots. Her eyes had completely slipped over her, but there, clear as day, an arm thrown around Narcissa Black, was the ghost girl. It _had_ to be her- despite the lack of dead eyes and ethereal hair, the resemblance was uncanny. Could that be Franny? Maybe Hermione was meant to find this photo album all along, and not the manuscript. Afterall, the ghost had said "book."

There was a picture of Lucius and Narcissa, too, and it was clear they were a couple even in their Hogwarts days. Narcissa had told Hermione that it had been an arranged marriage, but it seemed like it was a favorable one for the two stuck-up pure-bloods. They were both in dress robes at the Yule Ball in the picture, dancing together. Hermione saw Andromeda in the background, drinking punch and smiling next to the owner of the photo book, Franny. She was friends with all the black sisters, it seemed. Even Bellatrix was sitting next to her in one picture, all four sitting around a table playing cards. The room looked familiar… was it in the Manor? The white walls and gaudy gold trim in the room seemed to lean in that direction.

It was something of a shock to Hermione to realize that the women in the photos were younger than _she_ was today. How strange, to ever think of her mother-in-law as young, carefree, and pretty.

She closed the book, carrying it with her as she closed up the attic.

...

"No, never saw her," Draco answered as Hermione tapped a photo of a young woman with black wavy hair and narrowed dark brown eyes.

Hermione frowned. "Well… these pictures are from your parents Hogwarts days… I guess she probably died before you were born. She didn't look much older as a ghost than she does in these pictures."

"Why does it matter, really? I think we have enough current problems without worrying about our ghost-writer."

"Was that a pun?"

"Unintentional, but yes, I suppose. Look, I found this book on brewing Intangibility Potions that looks interesting…"

And so, with no further evidence to go on, Hermione stashed the photo album in Draco's room and moved on. There was nothing more to say- she would have to wait, and maybe the ghost would come back with another clue… or, maybe it would talk like a decent ghost and stop making her guess at things!

The days went by in a blur, working during the day, brewing on the weekends, and nights spent with Draco. Not once did she run into Lucius, and she was careful to never be seen leaving Draco's room- she usually got there by apparition. It was a necessary precaution. She loved waking up in his arms, but it was admittedly an additional risk. Only his assurance that his parents would never come into his room without permission eased her worrying.

She was reading a book on Draco's bed, waiting for him to return from his family-only dinner (which he assured her was always more painful than sitting through History of Magic class), and subsequent lessons on finance, when an owl arrived for her. The sound of its beak clicking on the glass startled her- she wondered how owls always knew where she was, when her location in the house was such a secret to most of it's inhabitants.

The letter it delivered to her was, like most letters she received, from Ginny. She had just finished reading when Draco came in, shutting the door behind him hard enough that it was just shy of 'slamming.'

"I don't know how much longer I can sit there and smile, and pretend I care about what office we send bribes to in what season… who owled you?"

"Ginny," Hermione said, feeling suddenly cheerful. "She says, and I quote, 'Summer's almost over, I'm bored, let's put on minimal clothing and jump in a lake.' She wants to go swimming sometime."

"…and I don't suppose she excluded me?"

"Nope. You're invited."

"Drat."

"Oh, so you don't want to go swimming with me? You claim to like shorts, but you haven't even seen me in a bikini…"

Draco grinned, shaking his head. "I don't know what that is, but I bet I can have you in a lot less within five minutes in this bedroom."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "That would depend on if you're going to agree to go swimming with me or not."

Draco sighed, throwing up his arms in defeat. "Fine. Where?"

Hermione inspected the letter again. "Ginny's not sure… she says she's debating it with Harry. They want to rent a beach house, maybe…"

Draco snorted. "Why rent? I own a beach."

Hermione stared. "You own a… beach?"

"That's what I said," he answered, a smug look on his face that Hermione hadn't seen in a long time. "Actually, I should say we own a beach _and_ a villa on that beach. In Croatia. Cheap real estate, and muggles there don't ask too many questions when you shove a lot of money at them."

Hermione felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. True, she didn't think money was the most important thing in the world… and often she found the family's spending practices disgustingly decadent. But the idea of a private white sand beach on the Mediterranean… it was pretty attractive. "Just to be clear, are you inviting your wife, Ginny, and Harry Potter to your beach home?"

Draco gave her the most confused look ever, as if he were trying to deduce exactly how the conversation had gone in this direction. He looked so cute just then, that Hermione threw the letter over her shoulder and jumped at him, knocking him playfully to the bed and kissing him. "Thanks for the invitation," she said, smirking, watching his look of complete disbelief grow.

"Huh?" he managed weakly.

Hermione stifled laughter, working to remove her robes as she sat on Draco, pining him to the bed. "No?" she asked, pouting theatrically.

Draco, finally blinking away his dumbstruck expression, indignantly muttered, "I think you tricked me somehow…" She kissed, him, cutting off his protests. He retaliated by flipping them over, pining her roughly beneath him as he intensified their kiss."…but I can't seem to say 'no' to you," he muttered against her skin, drawing his lips down her neck as he worked to undress her.

Her entire body seemed to hum in pleasure as he caressed her skin. How was it that he still had such an effect on her? She felt like they could do this every night for the rest of their lives and it would always feel new and fantastic, the slide of his skin on hers…"You're sure?" she asked, gasping as his mouth found her breast, his tongue swirling over the sensitive tip.

He had to stop his administrations in order to answer. "Of course. And if your little friends hear how loud you can be when we're together through the walls, it'll be a bonus to traumatize them."

…..

Draco told his mother he would be visiting their vacation home, and despite her suspicions she did nothing other than wish him a good time. Draco suspected that she was happy to get Hermione out of the house, even if their simultaneous departure came across as suspicious. Draco was surprised, honestly, that his father had never once asked about where Hermione spent her time. He had never even seen her, or expressed the slightest bit of curiosity about her. It was as she were a house elf to him- not to be seen or heard.

Which was just as well, since they were trying to keep a rather large and obvious secret from him.

He was amazed by how excited Hermione was over a weekend away from the Manor. It was September 1st, and for the first time in eight years they were not going to the Hogwarts Express... well, at least for Draco it had been eight years. It almost felt like they were celebrating adulthood, somehow, though in truth the date was just a coincidence.

She had been packing for the past two days, deciding on new things she just _had_ to bring. She even bought a pair of sunnyglasses for Draco, which he didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't want to wear. They looked pretty ridiculous.

….

The two of them apparated directly to Grimmauld place- it was, of course, too risky to meet up at the Manor. They were greeted by a grinning Ginny, who was also decked out in sunglasses, a loose dress, and a giant floppy hat. She screamed when she saw them, and jumped forward to hug Hermione, and then Draco (much to his chagrin).

"Ah! Thank you for inviting us along! I'm so excited for a real vacation!"

"Well, technically you invited us to the beach first," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but not all of us own our own _freaking beach_!" Ginny squealed, looking at Draco. She hit his shoulder playfully, jumping up and down. She was way too hyper- she reminded Draco very much of a small over-excited puppy. "Harry is so excited- he's never even been overseas before. Oh, don't tell him I told you- he's trying to play it cool. You know, he can't show how excited he is in front of blondie here." Ginny winked, and ran back towards the front door of the house with the couple in tow.

The front parlor looked transformed- the couple had changed the curtains to something light and wispy, enlarged the front window to let in more light, and swapped the dark oppressive old furniture for big comfortable couches in a shocking lime green color. The room was almost modern, if not for the dusty old rose-patterned wallpaper. Hermione spotted a couple of unopened paint cans sitting in the corner, though, and had a feeling the house would be completely new within a year at the most.

"Well, what do you think?" Ginny asked, sweeping her arms out around her like a model on The Price Is Right. Hermione had a feeling that the shiny new flatscreen TV mounted on the wall had something to do with that.

"It's incredible, Ginny," Hermione assured her. Harry stood up from his spot on the couch, nodding at her, and she walked forward to hug her friend. "Harry! I hope you've brushed up on your sticking and water-repellant charms like I told you so you don't lose your glasses in the ocean."

Harry smiled, then, shaking his head. "You know I'm rubbish at the sticking charm, but Ginny seems to have it down."

"How do you think I got that TV on the wall?" Ginny added, pointing out the flatscreen with the same model pose as before.

Hermione laughed, flashing Draco a grin even as he sent an almost instinctual frown in the TV's direction. He obviously wasn't sure what to make of it, but was too embarrassed to ask. Actually, he should've known what a TV was- it was probably Ginny's odd actions that had confused him.

"Now we just have to wait for the others, then we can pop on over to another country!" Ginny said excitedly.

Hermione knew a moment of complete confusion, just before the doorbell rang. Others? What others? Harry was also flashing Ginny a questioning look as the girl bounced over to answer the door.

Standing there, suitcases floating calmly behind them despite being in the middle of a muggle street, were Pansy and Pietro.

Hermione looked to Draco, and saw he was smiling. He had known about this, and it seemed that Ginny had as well. How had _that_ been coordinated!?

"Surprise!" Ginny yelled, giving her husband a slightly sheepish look.

Harry groaned, and Hermione internally agreed with him. They had to share this trip with _Pansy_? Harry had barely begun to stomach Draco, and Hermione wasn't exactly the biggest fan of Pansy herself.

But Draco seemed happy, and it _was_ his beach house, and this _was_ his friend…

"Ugh, it looks like rain here. How's the weather in Rovinj? I haven't been to the villa since… what was it? The summer after fourth year? That time Blaise got stung by a jellyfish and actually _cried_? Oh, how we pointed and laughed…" the dark-haired woman drawled, pushing her way into the house and looking around with a crinkled nose.

Of course. She had been there before. Draco had taken all of his friends there before, and for the first time Hermione wondered what it would have been like, being friends with him back then. If he hadn't been such a little shit, that is. How nice would it have been to spend summers at his vacation home, go to the Yule Ball with him, try and decide which team to cheer for when Gryffindor faced off with Slytherin at Quidditch… it could have been nice. They had both missed out on a lot being separated by such a wide gap of hate for so long.

"Is it safe?" Hermione asked, coming up closer to Pansy with Draco. "Coming with us, I mean?"

"Well, only Draco and his family know the exact location of the villa, so Zabini's not a problem. If he shows up, I could always force-feed him a live jellyfish and see how that goes. I am going absolutely _insane _stuck in that little house, so no one is talking me out of this trip."

"Preparations for leaving the country permanently are taking a little long, anyways. It is good to get a vacation, no?" Pietro added, shrugging.

"How do we get there?" Harry asked, and Pansy set her sharp eyes on the dark-haired boy. A scowl was forming on her face, which she quickly transformed into a fantastically bitchy sneer.

"Oh, someone's never been overseas before, hmm?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I haven't. Of course, I've also never worn such an ugly facial expression in someone elses house before, either."

Pansy looked like she was going to retaliate, a disgusted clucking noise popping off her tongue, when Draco put an arm around her abruptly, laughing. "Oh, Pans. You always were the perfect house guest."

Okay. Hermione knew he was doing a very fantastic job of diffusing the situation. It worked brilliantly, Pansy rolling her eyes and even letting out a small derisive laugh. However… did he really have to _touch_ her? Why did it bother her so much?

She tried to let the thought slip away. It shouldn't bother her. It didn't bother Pietro in the slightest, and Hermione hugged Harry freely enough.

Still, Hermione had never dated Harry. She had most certainly never taken Harry to a secluded beach home when dating him, either, for that matter. One that she was currently going to with her spouse...

"And, for your information, Rat's Nest," Pansy said, and it took a moment for Hermione to register that she was talking to _her_, "Draco never brought lovers to the beach house. Everyone knew that that's what the winter cabin was for."

Was she some kind of mind reader?

"Oh, lord…" Harry managed, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Pansy took "too much information" to a new level, though Hermione was certain making her uncomfortable was the girl's main goal.

"Thanks Pans. You're always such a huge help." Draco managed, taking a step back and shaking his head.

"Don't worry. I'll be sure to make this a nice lively weekend with my upbeat attitude," she answered smugly.


	35. Chapter 35

**Chapter 35: The Villa**

It turned out that oversea travel, with wizards, could be fairly complicated depending on your destination. Usually, you would have to arrive at a checkpoint by floo or apparition, fill out a ton pf paperwork and go through customs. However, like most things in life money could take care of such troubles. If you _owned_ property it all became much simpler, as long as you were traveling there in a direct connection. They used a portkey to travel straight to the villa. The extra-long spinning trip made them all a little dizzy, but overall Hermione was impressed with how quickly she could go over several countries and a sea.

"Oh my… look at how blue the water is!" Ginny shrieked, running up the beach and straight to the water, not even wasting a moment to put her luggage in the house. She opted to just chuck it to the ground before she jumped shin-deep into the water, splashing around.

Frankly, she was adorable. Hermione smiled, shaking her head and looking around.

The villa had a terracotta orange roof, stucco walls, and two floors. It looked pretty large and out of place on the completely empty beach… except, of course, for the wires running out and far away towards a small road cut into the vegetation past the sand.

"Telephone?" Hermione asked, and Draco laughed.

"You _would_ notice that- white sand beach, sparkling blue water, your friend screaming like she's five, and you notice the ugly tellyphone poles. And no, we don't have a tellyphone. The place was owned by muggles before us, and the city wouldn't let us tear them down. Very stubborn around here. Trust me, father tried, but we didn't want to push the issue and draw attention to ourselves." The group walked forward, Harry laughing as he tried to haul Ginny out of the water and Ginny reciprocating by kicking water at him. Draco pulled out his wand, levitating the fallen bags and walking towards the oceanfront door of the villa. "We do, however, have electricity. Not sure why, or how it works, but a company takes money from our account every month to pay for it."

"You have electricity," Hermione repeated, completely lost.

"Well," Pansy said, coming up on Hermione's right, "do you expect us to constantly cast warming charms on the hot tub? No house elves out here."

"Hot tub?"

"Seats eight."

"Huh."

Of course. No television, no radio from this decade, no electric light at the Manor, but they had a hot tub at the Villa.

"It came with the place. I like it," Draco said with a shrug.

Hermione decided not to point out how obviously odd it was for the two previously-anti-muggle Slytherins to have enjoyed a very muggle device on vacation. She doubted it was something they gave much thought to.

The inside of the house was very warm, open, and sunny. There were windows thrown open to the soft breeze, white gauzy curtains fluttering. The floors were wood and tile, and besides a nice sitting room with a sliding door overlooking the beach, there were four bedrooms, a kitchen, bathrooms for all of the bedrooms, a dining area, and a garden out back. The "hot tub worth keeping electricity" was on the porch, just past the sliding doors.

"Oh, I like this place much better than the Manor," Hermione said as Draco showed her around, pausing briefly at the incredible fairy-like canopy bed in the master bedroom. Pansy and Pietro had run up the stairs to claim a room that was apparently one of Pansy's favorites, and Harry and Ginny could still be heard outside, laughing.

"Oh? It's nice for a vacation, but it's not really homey, is it?" Draco asked.

Immediately, Hermione fixed him with a darkly humorous look. "And the Manor seems… homey, to you?" Draco blinked down at her, silent and clearly not understanding her astonishment. The Manor was so far gone from any word Hermione could ever associate with "homey": cozy, intimate, comfortable….

But no matter how she saw it it was, for Draco, the only home he'd ever known. She smiled, shaking her head. "I suppose anywhere where I can be with you is comfortable for me."

"Cheesy," Draco teased, rolling his eyes despite the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Suddenly, he pulled on her hand, bringing her forward into the bedroom. Hermione let out a small squeak of surprise at his sudden jog across the room, and he quickly threw open a door on the other side of the bed.

There was a balcony. Hermione stared, feeling her breath catch at the sight of so much shining teal water expanding in her view. "Wow." She managed, the soft breeze blowing her hair around despite all the clips she had used to control the shortened mass of it.

"Yeah. I thought you might like it." He was practically giddy, grinning down at her. He pointed off slightly to the right, and Hermione noticed a dark shape in the water not too far away. "That's my island."

"Your island. You have an island."

"Yep."

"You're showing off now, aren't you?"

"Oh, most certainly." He pointed in the opposite direction, and Hermione noticed a small pier leading out into the water.

"And that's your yacht." Hermione guessed, shaking her head in wonder. "Or by 'your,' do you mean your family's?"

Draco shrugged. "Same difference really, but if you want to get technical I mean _mine_. My parents gave me this whole place for my sixteenth birthday."

Hermione thought of television programs involving whiney sixteen years old wanting a car. This was on a whole other level.

"So, are you suitable impressed? Do I have a good chance of scoring tonight, or what?"

Hermione was still thinking of some kind of snappy comeback when Draco suddenly pointed to the right again, back to the tiny island. "See that?"

"The island?"

"Yes. I plan on shagging you senseless over there. And see that?" He was pointing to the yacht.

"Uh, huh."

"Gonna bang you over there, too. And the hot tub?"

Hermione knew what he was doing, now, trying to get a rise out of her. She could feel the heat coming to her cheeks and her breath quicken, even those the slightly sadistic smirk on Draco's face made it obvious that that was his intention. She thought she had built up a bit of a tolerance to his more sordid language when they were alone, but in fact she had not. She shook her head, trying to act nonchalant even though she felt a little dizzy.

He leaned in close now, one arm snaking it's way over her hips in a warm glide. "There will definitely be some good times in the hot tub, too."

"You do know there are _other_ people on this trip," she managed without stumbling, just before Draco slipped his hand over her butt, gripping firmly and pulling her flush against him.

"Let them get their own island," he said, before crashing his lips over hers eagerly. She practically melted in his arms, already boiling from his declarations.

"Ewwww!" called a voice playfully, and Hermione jerked back her face enough to look down from the balcony. Harry and Ginny were heading in, and Draco and her had been making out in the very open space of the balcony. Hermione knew another wave of embarrassment, but she couldn't even step back a pace thanks to Draco's arms wrapped firmly around her. "Are you going to take your hand off her butt?" Ginny added, grinning from ear to ear.

"Not if I can help it," Draco called back down. Hermione wasn't sure she approved of this camaraderie Draco and Ginny seemed to be developing. It could only be more trouble for her and Harry, who was also looking miserably embarrassed. He was giving her an unfathomable look, switching rapidly between disgust, confusion, and wary acceptance.

Hermione dislodged herself from Draco's arms and led the way back through the house and down the stairs to the main living space, trying to control the burning on her face as Draco chuckled behind her. Pansy was seated on the couch, legs crossed and looking disgruntled. Pietro sat beside her, flipping through a coffee table book that he had found.

"Finally!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. "I'm starving- what are we doing about lunch?"

"Finally? It's only been a few minutes, Pansy," Draco replied.

"Your lack of run time in bed is not my concern. You should pay attention to your guests before you go hopping off with your Gryffindor virgin."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "I am not appreciating the nickname."

"Oh, good. Then it'll stick," Pansy added with a smile. Somehow, Hermione got the distinct impression that she was maybe a couple degrees less malicious than usual, which probably meant she was being friendly. Probably.

"Hey, if she gets to be Gryffindor virgin, then does that make you Slytherin slu-" Ginny started, having entered the room right in time to hear the start of the conversation, but noticing the maximum-powered look of venom Pansy was throwing her way, curtailed her sentence to an abrupt end. "slu- sluice."

"Sluice?" Pansy asked, eyes narrowed.

Hermione snickered. "It's a kind of floodgate."

"Exactly. And I challenge any of you to try and beat me at scrabble," Ginny added, having a seat next to Hermione.

"Anyways… on the subject of food," Draco said, clearly trying to divert the conversation to less dangerous areas. "We don't keep house elves here…"

"Oh, good. I find them entirely too grainy, anyways," Ginny piped up, and everyone but Hermione laughed. Even Pansy, though she looked ashamed of herself immediately afterwards. Probably not for the same reasons as Hermione.

"We keep the place stocked with food though. There should be some steaks. And there's a grill," Draco continued.

Hermione stared. "_You_ can make your own food!?"

"Really? You felt the need to sound that surprised?"

"Surprised? I almost fell out of my chair!" Hermione found the image of Draco, standing outside, grilling steaks for his friends almost disturbing it was so out of place.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Actually, Blaise usually cooked on our trips. He likes it, plus Draco tends to forget what he's doing and lets the food burn to shit." That was the second time Pansy had mentioned Zabini. If mentioning her friend's name after his betrayal was painful, Pansy was damn good at hiding it.

"Thanks, Pans."

She smiled sweetly, tilting her head to the side. "Let's not forget the time you burned down half the kitchen, and we had to actually port all the way back home to get a house elf to come feed us so we wouldn't all starve. I might add, that was one of the weekends Blaise couldn't make it."

"Oh, shove it," Draco muttered, shaking his head. "I can handle-"

"We're all going to starve to death by the time anyone actually gets to work," Hermione interrupted, standing up and walking towards the small kitchen. She pulled a couple steaks from the freezer, some corn from the fridge, and some tin foil.

She shook her head as she passed everyone on her way out through the living room, arms loaded up with food and supplies.

Harry smiled. "We can't let her cook all weekend- she gets rather grumpy about it."

"Only when certain boys treat me like 'mommy' for half a year," Hermione yelled back through the open screen of the back porch door, firing up the grill with a wave of her wand against the coals.

After lunch, they headed for the beach, Pansy levitating an oversized umbrella to trail behind her, which she promptly sat under and refused to emerge from. "The sun's bad for your skin," she said by way of excuse, but Hermione got the feeling that she probably wasn't feeling up to running around and swimming. She was more than a few months pregnant at this point, Hermione guessed, and she had been looking a little green since they had used the portkey.

Hermione had actually taken an embarrassingly long time deciding on a swimsuit to bring for the trip. She knew that witches and wizards wore swimsuits, but they were always a little dated. In other words, a little more modest. Women's swimsuit designs she had found at the tailors were all up to the neck, with thick straps and fabric low on the thighs. Kind of like something you would see from the 1940's, and they were always paired with a wrap and shawl of some kind. You could barely even see the swimsuit on the mannequins.

Pansy hadn't even bothered to change into a suit, but Hermione guessed that she would have worn something similar. Lucky for Hermione, Ginny had dragged her along to shop in a muggle store for suits so they could "coordinate."

It was like Ginny could read her mind. Definitely less awkward wearing a bikini if you're not the only one.

...

When Hermione and Ginny came out of the house and onto the beach, arm-in arm, Draco almost dropped his wand.

He had been fighting a losing battle with the umbrella Pansy had brought- the wind kept blowing it away, and neither he nor Pietro knew a sticking charm that would work on sand. Honestly, how did he get such a high maintenance friend? Trick question- he was fairly certain he qualified as "high maintenance," too.

He had expected Hermione to look good in a swimsuit. He hadn't expected muggle swimsuits to contain less fabric than muggle undergarments, stretched incredibly thin over her curves. Merlin. How was he supposed to enjoy a fun, laid back day when she looked like _that_? Currently, he wanted nothing more than to separate her from her friend, throw her over his shoulder, and bring her directly to their bedroom.

His eyes skimmed her hungrily, and the forgotten umbrella fell to the beach… right on Pansy.

"Hey!" she yelled, and Pietro pulled it off her quickly, smiling.

"I think your friend is otherwise occupied," he informed his wife, who looked back over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.

Harry came out of the house behind the girls, carrying a cooler, and he hurried to catch up to them. The three of them walked up, and Draco wondered how everyone else could just be so calm and collected when there were two practically nude girls walking around.

This was going to be one of those muggle things that made him look ignorant, wasn't it? He should just act natural, and not like a wide-eyed gawking statue.

"You know, they do have nude beaches in this country," Pietro informed him, dragging him out of his trance. Pansy tsked, and Pietro laughed. "What? I'm just pointing out that to those used to muggle fashion, those bikinis are hardly considered extreme. My advice is to compliment her on the color, Draco, like it _actually_ matters."

By the time the trio had made it to their little spot of beach, Draco had managed to deduce that the color of the swimsuit was the same blue as the ocean. Ginny's was some kind of hot pink number, though he was diligently trying not to look too long in that direction. Too awkward, his wife's friend dressed like that… or rather, _un_dressed like that.

"Uh… blue," Draco managed to blurt.

Hermione cocked her head to the side, a smile sliding onto her face. "Blue?"

"Yes. Your swimsuit."

"Yes. Yes it is that."

"It's nice. The blue, I mean."

"…thanks?"

He shot Pietro a frustrated look, as if it were his fault for suggesting the compliment and not his own fault for the horrible delivery. The older man just shook his head, finally getting the umbrella far enough into the sand that it stayed put. Pansy gave him an appreciative look as he sat down in the shade next to her.

Harry placed the cooler close enough that it fell in the shade of the umbrella. "There. Cleared out half the butterbeer left in the fridge, if anyone gets thirsty."

"Oh. Thanks bunches," Pansy said with a straight face. The sarcasm was clearly implied, though, as she pointed to her stomach.

"Well, obviously I didn't mean _you_. There's bottled water in there, too," Harry said, and Draco thought he heard him muttering something about "ungrateful sarcastic divas ruining the weekend."

Draco wondered exactly what he meant with the plural.

Ginny suddenly grabbed Harry's arm and hauled him to the water, calling out, "Last couple in is officially the least cute!"

"What?" Draco asked to no one in particular, and Hermione grabbed his hand and started running after her friend, leaving him no choice but to run along with her.

The water was, as usual at this time of year, the perfect temperature. On either side of the area directly in front of the villa there were a lot of large, sharp rocks, but the area set aside for swimming was covered by soft white sand. Draco was fairly certain the muggles they bought the place from had had the sand brought in from somewhere, though he had no idea how muggles could accomplish such a thing.

Ginny shrieked as Harry, running at her heels, fell and pulled them both face-first into the shallow water. Hermione laughed. "Does that mean we win, or lose?" she wondered, smiling up at Draco as they hurried deeper into the crystal clear water. She was still holding his hand, her other hand busy trying to brush her frizzy hair from her face as the wind fought against her. Her hair was short, but still so stubborn.

"Hey, I can fix your hair," he said suddenly.

She stared at him. "How?" she barely managed to ask before he grabbed her in a tight hug and pulled her bodily under the salty water with him.

She jumped up, struggling out of his grasp, sputtering. "You! Do you know what salt water will do to this mop!? Do you!?" For the time being, however, her hair hung down completely straight, gaining a little extra length in the process.

He grinned, feeling mighty pleased with himself all of a sudden. Why was it still so much fun to pick on her?

"Aw, you two are so darn cute!" Ginny said, swimming up closer to them even though the water was shallow enough to walk.

"Cute? Did you miss the part where my hair was assaulted? I didn't plan on getting it wet… sigh… it's a lost cause anyways."

"Nope. Not a lost cause," Draco leaned in close, grabbing Hermione around the waist. "Your hair is absolutely perfect for grabbing onto when we-" Hermione splashed him, cutting off his whispered sentence.

Harry wadded close behind Ginny. He was avoiding looking at Hermione, now, using the yacht parked a ways away as an excellent excuse for something else to look at. Draco knew that this whole situation was odd… who would have ever thought he'd be comfortable at the beach with Potter? When did that happen, exactly? The comfortable around part, that is?

Probably when he offered to help, after the Weaslette's party. Draco had particularly liked how quickly Harry had grasped their situation, and even though Draco hated the charity, it was interesting that Harry didn't just focus on Hermione but included him in his crazy little 'come stay at our place' scheme. Not that there was much choice when it came to their ring-confinement, but still, the gesture had been appreciated.

In addition, now that he truly cared for Hermione, it was nice to know there was someone else who would protect her no matter what. Harry had been there for her, stood up for her, fought with her, for many years now. Draco was the one who was new at this. What had Draco ever protected before? Certainly not his friends.

So, in an odd way, Draco had developed a strange sort of respect for Harry.

The feeling, however, was probably not mutual. Harry looked extremely uncomfortable around Draco, which could only be because of the way he was constantly touching Hermione. While Ginny seemed to have accepted their relationship before they even had, Harry appeared to be having a rough time of it.

And Draco found it just funny enough that he wanted to exploit it.

"Hey, Potter, eyes off the yacht. I got big plans for it this weekend, and it doesn't involve any of you!" he said, trying to keep his face schooled as serious as possible while he threw and arm around Hermione's shoulders.

Harry just shook his head. "Not a big fan of boats, myself…" he said, but his face seemed to get a little pink, so he definitely noticed Draco's implications.

Ginny jabbed him in the ribs lightly, grinning. "That's okay Harry. We can just swim out to that island then, right?"

"Hey! No way- the island also won't be a group trip!"

"Who says?" Ginny taunted like a kid, sticking out her tongue in Draco's general direction.

"The guy who owns it!" Draco declared, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He just loves saying that. You led him riiiiight into it, too."

"In case you didn't know, we're not the kind of crowd that's big on following the rules," Ginny said with a grin, and Harry sighed heavily.

"How about tomorrow?" Hermione suggested. "We can all check out the island."

"Hey! Am I being ignored, here?" Draco whined.

Hermione put a hand on her hip and looked up at him. "I'm your wife, remember? Half that island is mine. We'll be sure to only walk on half of it."

Draco didn't know what to say to that, so instead of words he proceeded to dunk Hermione below the gentle waves again.


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N: I actually have had a lot of people mention that Draco crying back in chapter 18 was OOC, and I think I might go back and change that a bit. Personally, I think Draco is a bit of a cry baby, so I was going more for a stress-cry. Anyways, I agree that it's strange, so when I have some time I'mma go adjust that. _

**Chapter 36: The After-Party**

Draco was drunk. Hermione was absolutely positive that he was really and truly, one-hundred percent, wrecked. And more to the point, he was the friendliest, loudest drunk she had ever happened to know.

"So then, we figure, it's sitting in the liqueur cabinet, and it's such a lovely red color, so we grab the whole damn bottle…"

Pansy groaned. "I was sick the whole next day. Why are you telling this story? Didn't you promise not to tell this story?"

"Oh, come on. It was hilarious, in retrospect. My mother looked like she was about to throw us both out the third story window."

"It was just _grenadine_. It proved how stupid we were at twelve, not _bad_." Pansy was curled up in her lawn chair- Pietro had dragged it down from the deck to the bonfire for her. Everyone else was sitting on towels on the sand. "This story must be much more entertaining when you're plastered," she added, eyeing every one of them with a look of loathing/jealousy. Needless to say, she was the only one that hadn't had a single drink.

Even Hermione had probably had more than her fair share. It just felt like the thing to do if you're going to have a bonfire. That, and roast hot dogs… but of course the villa had no hot dogs. They settled for grilling some fish instead for dinner… which all came frozen. Seriously- they were on the _sea_. Hermione decided that they were definitely going to try and catch their own damn fish tomorrow. After the island.

"Oh! I have a fun drunk story, too! At my brother's wedding, I drank a wee bit more champagne than I should have, and agreed to dance with Lee Jordan. The boy was the worst dancer I've ever met- kept stepping on my toes. But I suppose this story has a happy ending, since the wedding was interrupted suddenly by a pack of Death Eaters!" Ginny said quickly. Hermione was under the impression that unlike most of them, Ginny was not actually that liquored-up. Her sarcasm was definitely on-point.

"That's not a fun drunk story," Hermione informed her.

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning. "That night was awful. I had to play interference to stop Krum from having a go at you."

"Really?" Hermione asked, laughing a little louder than she meant to. "_That's_ the reason that night was awful?"

Harry grinned. "Well, in retrospect… which seems to be the word of the night, right… it was the last day in months that we got to eat decent food, worry about petty jealousy, and beat the hell out of some jerks."

Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Where did you guys go, anyways? I think I've heard something about camping…?" Draco asked curiously, his voice still a little too loud to sound as serious as Hermione was sure he meant to be.

"Oh, if you want the full story you'll have to wait for Harry to write his memoirs…" Ginny said with a squeal as Harry poked her in the ribs. She had the Daily Prophet sitting next to her- it had taken all day for the owl to deliver it. Hermione wasn't even aware owls would deliver the paper this far. She patted it, and Hermione was certain there was at least one Harry-centered article inside. There always was.

"I'm not writing anything! If any press comes near my house, the place is rigged to turn their clothes inside out and push them all the way back to the Ministry."

Hermione laughed at that- it was such a _Harry_ response. He never wanted fame, not really. He had been crazy-famous for seventeen years now, and his opinions on the subject hadn't changed in the slightest.

"Yeah, we camped for most of that year," Hermione finally said, pulling her legs up and hugging her beer. "We also all had a cursed locket we were watching…" Harry really was drunk. He didn't reprimand her for mentioning the Horcrux at all. "…it made us all pretty grumpy. At each other's throats most of the time. I think people like to pretend we did a lot of heroics that winter, but really we were mostly sitting around."

Harry stared at the fire, the smile slowly starting to slide from his face. "There wasn't much to do, except for the trouble at Godric's Hollow after Ron left…"

Hermione shook her head. "Ron. Now there's a story! Any of you hear that I almost killed him when he finally came back?"

"Good," Ginny said, smirking as she brought her bottle back to her mouth. "I mean, glad you didn't, but my brother has a tendency to not think before he does stupid things. I like to think he learned from the experience."

"Hermione's not exaggerating, either," Harry said, the mirth coming back to his face, red from all the alcohol he had consumed. "I had to cast protego to save him! If she had had her wand at the time, I think we could have scooped up what was left of him and buried it in a sardine can…"

"_Now _you're exaggerating! I only would have broken a few bones, I like to think…"

"You lot are very talkative when you drink," Pansy spoke up, taking a casual swig from her water. "I bet I could make a mint selling that much info to the Prophet." At a simultaneous glare from Harry and Hermione, she added, "But I won't. God. Don't look at me like that- it's not my fault you're all so damn uptight. I was kidding."

It was hard to tell with Pansy, it really was.

…

"Well, it's late…"

"It's only ten, Draco," Pansy muttered.

"Okay, then let me rephrase: Well, I'm sick of all of you for the night, and I have a huge bed and a hot wife I'd rather be spending time with right now." He grabbed Hermione's hand, ignoring the silent shocked look she was giving him. He knew he was embarrassing her, but he also knew how easily she got embarrassed. If he never embarrassed her, she would probably find him completely boring. "So, you can all just keep the party going out here. I'm going to start my own party now. The kind without clothes. Is anyone still confused?"

Ginny laughed, which was predictable. Draco appreciated her sense of humor more when it wasn't at his expense.

The only one other than Hermione looking at all shocked by his statement was Harry, and Draco was completely fine with freaking the boy out as much as he could this weekend.

Hermione trudge behind him, flashing a look back at her friends over her shoulder. Draco couldn't see what kind of look it was, but he imagined she was apologizing for being dragged off behind her drunk and horny husband. That was fine by Draco, because he knew the minute they were no longer in view of her friends he could kiss her and touch her and she would make it clear how much she liked it. She was definitely not the kiss and tell type, but in bed she made her appreciation known.

"Draco," Hermione started, pulling her hand out of his grip the moment they were inside the villa. Instead, she put a steadying arm around his waist as he stumbled. "You need to drink some water, and go to bed, or you're going to pay for it tomorrow and ruin the day."

Was he that drunk? "I only had…" he counted on his fingers. When he was sitting down, he had felt perfectly fine. But now, trying to walk around and make a grand exit, he felt that walking straight was out of the question. "…six? Six beers?"

"Well, it wasn't butterbeer, then," she acknowledged, walking to the kitchen and grabbing two glasses of water for them both. "I had my fair share too, but I can still _walk_."

"Are you calling me a lightweight?"

She shook her head. "It's actually rather amazing that you can still sound so lucid when you're tripping over your own two feet."

"I'm damn eloquent in any situation, lady."

Draco was grateful there was a railing on the staircase. He was able to make it upstairs without hanging all over Hermione like an invalid. He flopped down on the bed, groaning as he closed his eyes and the room began to spin behind them. Damn. Maybe it was seven beers?

He felt a weight fall next to him on the bed, and opened his eyes to see Hermione, sitting and looking down at him with a strange little smile.

"What?" he asked.

She leaned over, kissing him lightly, her hand running through his hair once. "Nothing. I was just thinking about how much I like you, even the side of you that's wildly inappropriate."

"I'll show you wildly inappropriate," he grumbled. He attempted to put an arm around her waist and pull her onto him, but to do so required sitting up slightly, which brought on some "room spinny-ness" all over again. He groaned. "Oh, that's not going to work."

"You should probably sleep…"

"Oh, hell no! You already flooded the island trip with your friends. Next time we go on a trip, we go alone!"

Hermione tilted her head, her eyes meeting his and holding his gaze. "Next time? Where will we go next time- the winter cabin?"

Draco groaned again, putting his arm over his eyes. "Pansy's gigantic mouth."

"So you're not going to deny that there _is_ a winter cabin, that you brought girls there, or that Pansy knows this for a reason?"

"You are the queen of bad timing for conversations like this."

She laughed, and he pulled his arm away to look up at her in surprise. She didn't seem upset, actually- was she teasing him, now? He sighed, relaxing again. "We can Reducto the winter cabin for all I care. I told you before, remember? If there's anywhere you want to go, I'll take you."

"I remember," she said, her eyes shining. There was barely any light in the room save for a small table lamp she had turned on, and the light behind her hair formed a kind of halo. "You told me that when you still didn't even _like_ me. Because it was the right thing to do."

"Yes. I'm absolutely the most charitable, kind-hearted, sexy man you've ever met. Now, do I get a reward for all this goodness I just seem to be bursting with?"

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Are you questioning my ability to _perform_? Because let me tell you, Granger," he leaned to the side, crawling his way back to the edge of the bed and using a banister to help him sit back up. He wavered a little, a small self-assured smile coming to his face. "if there's one thing I can _always_ do-"

He fell off the bed.

Eight beers. Maybe it was eight.

…

Draco recovered pretty quickly, pulling himself back in bed and doing his best not to look embarrassed. His "I meant to do that" serious face was hilarious, but Hermione knew better than to laugh. She coughed into her hand instead, shaking her head.

He still seemed to pick up on her mirth, glaring at her as he hung onto the bedpost for dear life. Hermione, feeling a sudden wave of playfulness, pushed against his chest with both hands, sending him back onto the bed with a small cry of surprise.

"Why are you kicking me when I'm down?" Draco asked, his eyes first looking up at her with sharp annoyance, only to slowly drift into hopeful excitement as she threw a leg over him, sitting on his stomach."Oh… well then… I'll just stay down, and you just keep… doing whatever your doing."

Hermione decided it was time he stopped his drunken babble, kissing him forcefully. Usually, it was him who initiated things like this- she was still not completely confident in her abilities, but seeing him look so helpless just made her want to jump him.

"Going to take advantage of me while I'm drunk?" Draco asked, grinning as Hermione came up for air. "Because I'm completely okay with that."

"Maybe I am," Hermione said, trying to fake confidence in her voice. She really was rubbish at that lovely, blood-pumping, naughty bed-talk Draco seemed so into. But she figured she could go ahead and give it a try, since he was likely to not even remember it in the morning."Maybe I'm going to see how loud you can be, and whether _your_ friend can hear it through the walls," she tried, mimicking his words when she had first suggested the trip.

It wasn't quite what she was going for, but Draco seemed to like the implications. His hips bucked up, his hands pushing on her thighs so she was seated lower on him. She could feel his hard length pressed against her snugly, and she let instincts take over as she ground down against him, the friction delicious even through their clothes.

She was wearing her bikini still, but as the night had cooled she had slipped on some shorts and a lightweight, oversized crocheted top. The latter was easy to slip off, and Draco took no time reaching up and grabbing for the strings of her top. She slapped away his hands hurriedly, that urge to present sexy confidence once more flaring up.

"Nope. You just lie still- I'm going to take care of everything tonight." Draco's eyes widened at her words, so she considered it a small victory. Maybe she wasn't so bad at this part, afterall.

Suddenly, he grinned. "You're still blushing."

She shut off the light, clicking the electric switch with a wave of her wand before she threw the carved piece of wood to the floor. Gently. "There. Now you can't tell. I'm determined to be the cool one tonight, Draco, so just stop talking and let me do this."

"You're the boss."

"You're damn right."

She ran her hands over his bare chest- he apparently didn't get cold as easily as her, and the only thing separating her from his warm body was his swim trunks, which she very quickly and easily removed.

It was a strangely empowering thing, to be the only one with clothes on.

"Hey, bossy lady on top of me- I'm feeling a bit of a chill, here."

"I can think of some ways to warm you up…" Now she sounded cheesy, and she was fairly certain it sounded like a line from a porno more than anything else. Why couldn't she be sincerely sexy?

Draco, however, didn't appear to agree with her internal sentiment, and he grabbed her arms roughly, pulling her down to meet his lips. His tongue slipped easily between her teeth, exploring as hurriedly and hungrily as if it were the first time. He bucked against her and she squeaked as she bounced, surprised by how much he could move her from his position.

She moved her lips down to his neck. As she ran her hands down his sides he sighed, resting his own hands on her thighs. She knew his body well- the dip at his collar bone that she licked, the bone at his hip that seemed to draw her hand straight to him…

"Ah… shit, Hermione…" he said, his voice a little shaky as she wrapped a hand around him, moving up and down softly, teasingly, even as her own body hovered inches above him. She kissed down his chest, using her free hand to draw lazy circles on his skin. He hummed a little when she passed over his nipple, so she returned to it, rubbing with her fingers and finally licking at the little nub experimentally. He pushed again her hand, his cock twitching. She didn't know guys liked that too… was it all guys, or just some? Draco seemed to like everything she did, and everything she touched.

"Bite," he commanded.

He was so demanding, even when he could barely sit up.

She bit down lightly, grazing the tender flesh with her teeth just slightly, causing him to shudder. She turned her administrations to the other side, but after a moment Draco let out a sound of impatience. "Are you trying to torture me?"

She realized she had paused the administrations with her hand, so involved she was with her new found discovery on top. She grinned. "Yes, maybe I am."

Draco frowned, then in an impressively quick movement given his inebriated state her reached up and pulled the string on the back of her bikini. She was topless in an instant.

She gave him her best chastising look, but rather than remind him that she was supposed to be the one taking care of everything tonight, she just sat up, crossing her hands under her breasts in a gesture that both looked intimidating, and perked up her assets for a nice view. Draco's breath was coming a little fast, his grip on her thighs tightening.

She stood up over him, removing the last of her clothing before settling back down on his lap. She moved, positioning herself over his large and ready erection, his hands on her hips to guide her down. She waited until he looked ready to complain again, his gray eyes demanding and finally pleading as they met hers, before she let herself drop down to meet him. In this position, he filled her up almost too much, and she cried out as that wonderful spot deep inside was pressed. She could angle her body so easily this way, making every action count.

She had gotten better at learning exactly what Draco liked, and just as importantly what _she_ liked. She liked when she could shift forward just slightly before driving down, the pressure expanding sweetly like a pot just about to boil over. He liked when she was vocal about what she liked, so she made sure to let him know with each little hop just how close she was to the ecstasy of release. She moaned, watching as Draco focused on the slick point where their bodies met, his stormy eyes sharp and intense as his breathing started to grow ragged.

Hermione continued her steady pace, her hands on Draco's chest to give her leverage, until she could feel the simmer turn to a boil, and the boil into a volcano of raw, shivering pleasure. She rode out her orgasm, crying out and unintentionally scraping at his chest as she closed her hands into fists.

"You're not finished," Draco said very clearly, making her open her leaden, satisfied eyes.

"Of course not," she said, happy that in the dark he couldn't see very clearly how she blushed. Did he think she would just say, 'I'm done, good night!' and crawl under the covers? She smirked at the thought- that would be truly evil.

"No, not _me_… I mean _you're_ not done. Not yet. I want to see that one more time before I finish…"

Why did his words feel like a challenge? "Oh…?"

"Come on, Hermione… let me hear you scream one more time tonight…" Obviously being drunk hadn't affected him in one particular area… although, hadn't he claimed as much before falling over earlier? He really did put a lot of pride on his sexual prowess.

He sat up while simultaneously putting his arms around her middle to help keep him up. He managed to reach her breasts, his tongue lapping and his teeth grazing lightly. She gasped, sinking lower so they were seated with their bodies still connected, his length buried within her and pressing at her core. She still had her legs around his sides, and she brought them around to the back of him, pressing their bodies tighter together as his lips worked up her neck, his hands moving to cup her butt.

His kisses were a little sloppy, but as he pumped into her while holding her, his motions were deliberate and powerful. She helped by bouncing against him- it was odd, having both of them sit up like this. She wasn't aware of just how many ways there were to have sex, before… It almost felt like she were discovering these new things herself, each experimental twist and angle of her body a complicated science.

She liked it. She liked the kind of things she discovered with Draco.

And she liked this new one, too. True, it was harder to get the same kind of quick, deep movements, but she could look at Draco, and kiss Draco, and run her hands through his hair…

"Hey, are you with me?" he asked suddenly, and she realized he was grunting, lifting her butt up a couple inches to add to the force of his hips jutting up to meet her. He looked like he was straining to keep himself in check, the frantic pulsing of their bodies quickening.

"I… I think so…"

"Don't just _think_ so… fuck… ah, why do you have to be so tight and slick and small and curvy all at the same time? Dammit woman… ah…"

She kissed him for as long as she could, but their movements naturally made it difficult to hold his lips. A hiss of air slipped past his teeth as she broke away, and his hands moved quickly to her hips, forcing her still on top of him and pressing her down as tight as he could in an almost bruising grip. His face pinched up, his eyes closed as he first was silent, and then sighed loudly and satisfyingly, lying back onto the bed with a "plop."

In the immediate calm after the storm, Hermione pulled herself off of Draco, lying down with her body pressed to his.

"Next time," he said, his eyes still closed. "Tomorrow night no drinking…"

She laughed lightly, pressing her lips wetly to his shoulder. "Trust me- no complaints here. Your brain is sloshed, but your lower brain seems to know what it's doing."

Draco laughed, his voice a little dry and heavy. He was definitely falling asleep, so Hermione didn't expect there would be much more pillow talk tonight. "I'm a bad influence on you…"


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37: The Island**

Breakfast was made by Hermione. She didn't _really_ mind- she knew what would happen if she let any of the others cook. Rich kids who never cooked for themselves, Ginny who confessed she hated it, or Harry who she knew was about as skilled as Ron in that area.

Still, she liked to give the others a bit of a hard time, especially Draco.

"Here I am, cooking again." she called as everyone sat in the living room. She liked the relatively small size of the villa- she was sure they could hear her from the kitchen. "If I'm acting like the hired help for the weekend, do I get paid?"

"No," called a voice from the living room. Pansy. "You're the house elf for the weekend. House elves don't get paid."

Hermione was tempted to dump a bottle of hot sauce in Pansy's eggs, but remembered that the girl was pregnant and restrained herself from sabotaging the brat's food.

Harry walked in, looking a little sheepish. "Er, can I help with something?"

"You can go set the table. I've seen what happens when you cook eggs." She smiled. "But thanks." She raised her voice a little. "At least _someone's_ offering!"

No response from the living room.

Harry grinned. "Sorry, Ginny's head is killing her." They had all neglected to bring any potions for such a situation, which really was a big oversight.

"Yeah, Draco's too. Won't stop me from picking on him, though. Payback for yesterday."

Harry's face flushed. And he started pulling dishes from the cupboards. "Er, right… he does like to make a scene, huh? Though I suppose wanting attention isn't anything new to him."

Hermione gave him a sideways, partial smile. "Yes, but while it used to make him seem arrogant, I find it kind of… endearing, now."

Harry stared at her, then proceeded to roll his eyes. He set down the stack of dishes on the counter as Hermione continued to shift around the scrambled eggs in her pan. "Hermione, just to be clear- we're certain this isn't some crazy love spell, right? No one at the Manor poisoning you, or obliviating you?"

He said it as a half-joke, and Hermione laughed. "No such luck for you, Harry. I legitimately like Draco."

He shook his head. "So I've been hearing from Ginny… and after the way he acted at the Burrow… he made it seem like he knew the consequences of seeing you, and he was willing to give it all up." Harry started pulling out silverware, his brow furrowed. "I can't believe I'd ever see a day when Draco would be willing to give up everything that had defined him for someone else, let alone someone I care about. I guess I can buy that he's serious. That doesn't make it any less _weird_."

Something in Hermione's stomach twisted at his words…_everything that defined Draco_. If his parents threw him out, he would lose his home, his money, his status, and his family… all for her. Was that really okay? Or would he start to resent her for it?

Harry saw the dark look that came over her face, and misinterpreting as usual he tapped her arm with his elbow, lifting up his haul of tableware. "Hey- I didn't mean to get you down Hermione. It's a good thing, really. He's a better person for getting to know you."

"Thank you Harry," she said, giving him a tight smile as he headed to the adjoining dining room to set the table.

...

Harry sighed when he stepped onto the boat, having a seat immediately, and Hermione began to wonder at his comment about not being a fan of boats. Maybe he got seasick? Either way, he was looking less than happy about the invitation to the island.

"It'll be much faster than swimming," Ginny pointed out, plopping down next to him. "Plus, look! A mini-bar!"

The yacht was rather large, and seated the six people with room for plenty more. Hell, room for a party, actually.

Draco sent a spell to the rudder, making the boat move very slowly and gently out of the harbor. Harry looked relieved, though his face was tinged with green. Definitely motion sickness- considering all of his adventures in flying cars, trains, thestrals, and Gringott's carriages, it came as a bit of a surprise. But then, Hermione supposed that boats were a little different.

Pansy spread herself onto a wooden lawn chair, keeping to the shade provided by a small awning at the entrance to the inside of the boat. She was wearing a different sundress than yesterday, one that seemed to be higher quality than the other girl's. It was definitely wizard summer wear, though- it had small flared sleeves and a row of buttons up to her neck that would look very out of place in muggle London, but was made of a cool cotton.

"So," Pansy started casually, taking the drink Pietro offered her with a small, intimate smile at her husband, "how are things with Mr. Malfoy Sr.?"

Harry and Ginny grew quiet, looking at Draco and waiting expectantly. Obviously they had wanted to know about the situation, too, but hadn't found the right way to ask.

Draco groaned. "Pansy, you're really the life of the party. He's doing well, I suppose… really well. He's just about recovered completely, I'd say, from his stay in… in that place."

"He's been training Draco on how to take care of the family finances," Hermione added quietly, sipping at a bottle of water and shifting her eyes up to meet Draco's. He frowned at her, his gray eyes glazing over like he was lost in some distant thought.

Pansy clucked her tongue. "Lucky me- I never had to worry about any of that rubbish. My parents assumed that when I married you, you would take care of things and I would sit there and look pretty."

Hermione choked on some of her water- how could she just say something like that so matter-of-factly? What century were pure-blood families living in, anyways? It seemed that the rich families, especially, had some very dated practices… it almost made the Marriage Law look like a good thing. It had certainly worked out for everyone seated in the boat, right?

"Yeah, too bad your etiquette tutor quit in a rage after a month…"

Pansy smirked. "Ah, third year. I frazzled Madam Cloetho good. It was her own fault- I'd been learning how to act at banquets and balls my whole life. I certainly didn't need some half-blood storming in and telling me to sit up straighter…"

Hermione wondered again at what Pansy's opinions were these days when it came to blood-status. She assumed that Pansy had disregarded her parent's teachings on the matter, but there was no amendment to her implied disregard of "half-bloods" forthcoming.

"She wrote a letter to my parents, you know. Trying to tell them what an unlucky match you would be. Little did she know I already knew you were a loud-mouth," Draco informed her with a grin.

Pansy looked affronted, a hand to her chest. "Me? Excuse me, Mr. "my father says this,""my father says that,""I'm going to be the best little Death Eater there ever was!""

Hermione gave Harry a wide-eyed stare, which he very easily returned. How could they just joke around about things like this? She _knew_ Pansy wasn't drunk, so she could only blame the girl's tactlessness.

Draco didn't seem the least bit surprised or irritated at her words. He turned to Pietro. "I've known Pansy for a long time, so I'm _used_ to this, but how do _you_ put up with her?"

Pietro seemed to think about it, gazing down at his wife with a look that could only be described as tender. Hermione wondered at his affection for her- she was rude, she was still vaguely racist, and she had a bad attitude. Maybe he saw something they didn't?

"I'm the strong silent type," he answered with a shrug. He smirked, not looking away from his wife. "And I can listen to her beautiful voice all day, no matter what she's saying."

"Pietro, you always know just what to say," she answered, her voice suddenly softer than Hermione had ever heard it. She had a childish moment where she wanted to stick her finger in her mouth and make a gagging motion at Harry, but of course she was able to resist the urge.

The two were holding hands, now, seeming to ignore everyone around them as they gazed into each others eyes.

Draco rolled his eyes. He looked at Hermione and cocked his head to the side as if to say, 'Can you believe this drivel?'

Ginny scooted over, closer to Hermione than Harry. "So, while we're on the subject... had any run-ins with your in-laws lately?" she asked quietly as Pansy started to say something snarky to Draco again.

Hermione shook her head. "I haven't even _seen_ Lucius. I'm sure he's doing a good job pretending I don't exist, which is really best for everyone. It's been a little tricky, though, making sure he doesn't see me leaving Draco's…" Hermione drifted off, realizing what she was admitting too, flushing. Seriously, her friends knew she was sleeping with Draco- this whole little trip had made it expressly clear. That didn't make it any less embarrassing to just readily admit the extent of it to her friend.

Ginny punched her shoulder, grinning. "His bedroom, right? You've been staying in his room? Did you move in? What about your gorgeous wing?"

Hermione fought the tiny smile forming on her face as she answered, "Well… obviously, Draco's rooms are much nicer than mine… though we still use the Potions room on the weekends."

"Ahhhh," Ginny said, drawing out the sound with a mischievous smirk. "I see. You use the Potions room, too…"

"Not for that!" Hermione chastised, just a little too loudly as her cheeks burned.

Draco's head swiveled in their direction, and he stood up from his spot by his friend to instead sit at Hermione's other side. He threw an arm around her, grinning at Ginny. "What are we talking about that has her looking like a quaffle?"

"Fun times in the Potions room," Ginny answered without missing a beat, dodging the flailing arm Hermione sent at her friend in defense and giggling.

"Oh, getting some new ideas?" Draco asked, his smirk becoming just a bit too devilish for Hermione's taste. He pulled at her with the arm around her waist, bringing out a little squeak, and before she knew it she was settled in his lap.

When they finally arrived on the island, the boat docked itself and waited for them to disembark. Pansy took one look at the steep stairs leading up the side of the high cliffs comprising the majority of the island and gave a weak little wave. "Have a good time. I'm going to just wait here."

Pietro sat firmly by her side, so it was clear he would be waiting too.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I only have one bed on this boat. It's mine. You hear me? No funny business on my boat."

Pansy snorted. "Fine. The _bed_ is off-limits."

Hermione wasn't entirely consoled by her emphasis, but at least the girl hadn't made any more implications about her past with Draco, or Draco's past as a Death Eater in a whole ten minutes. Bully for Pansy.

The stairs were painfully steep, carved into the stone of the cliff. There was a chain attached to posts at either side, making a railing to cling to, but Hermione still found herself out of breath when she reached the top. They were only three months out of stairway-filled Hogwarts and her legs were already out of shape- she resigned herself to some kind of workout regimen.

Draco leaned over with his hands on his knees. "Damn... should have… brought a broom…"

"Spoiled rich boy can't climb some stairs?" Ginny taunted, not looking tired in the least. Harry was right behind her, looking at the sparse vegetation around them calmly.

"How… are you so…" Draco started, then just gestured. "This was much easier a year ago…"

"You two should really work out more. Like, I don't know… join the Aurors," Ginny pointed out smugly.

Ah. Right. No wonder her and Harry were in good shape. Hermione laughed. "Think the Aurors could handle my constant questions and Draco's smart mouth?"

"Not if you're in my training group!" Harry answered, grinning. "I'd have you both running laps all day."

"You're training people already!?" Hermione asked, feeling better after their momentary rest.

Harry nodded. "Yeah… They took my experience with the DA rather seriously."

Draco scoffed. "That little club you were running in the Room of Requirement?"

Hermione shook her head, leading the way forward on an overgrown cobblestone path across a grassy field. "It was more than that… in the last year of the war, the DA was about survival. It started as a secret club, but I guess it just evolved into… more."

"Oh," Draco answered, thinking. "Then I guess you should be thanking me, huh?"

"Why would we thank _you_?" Harry asked, eyebrows raised.

Draco grinned. "If we hadn't figured out how to break up your little party fifth year, then the DA wouldn't have known to be more careful about what they required to hide from the Carrows seventh year. Hence, you're welcome."

Ginny laughed, but Harry and Hermione just frowned at him. "Oh, come on," Ginny said. "He has a point- all the trouble he caused us made us tough as nails in the long run." Her eyes shined with humor as she gave him a wink. "Thank you Draco for, in the most round-about way possible, helping me hide out during that horrible year."

"Finally, some recognition!" he answered.

Hermione shook off her shock, rubbing at her forehead as they walked. She didn't like being reminding of all of that… how she hated him back then. And Pansy? The annoyance she provided now was nothing like the vile loathing that had been between them before. She remembered that night, remembered the cold sneer on Draco's face, the tears she conjured up to trick Umbridge into going to the Forbidden Forest…

It was like another world, with different people as actors playing them. How could Draco, her Draco, have ever been so cruel? He was the same, even just a few months ago when the whole Marriage Law business was starting. At least he was on the outside.

She didn't like remembering, because she couldn't help the small flame of anger that flickered now and then at her memories.

But now they could look back on such things and laugh, right? That's what Draco and Ginny were doing. So why couldn't _she_ laugh?

The island had a few interesting ruins, not more than two feet tall walls of stone, some cliffs, and some caves that the water from the sea rolled gently into down below. The four of them walked along a path near the cliffs, watching the wide open mouth of one particularly impressive cave swallow the deep blue water.

"It's really beautiful here," Hermione commented, the wind working her salt-water frizzed hair into an extra-annoying frenzy.

"The muggles who owned this place before used to jump off these cliffs, apparently," Draco said, looking down below them at the water and shivering.

"Cliff diving?" Ginny asked, an eyebrow cocked, "or suicide?"

"Is there a difference?" Draco shot back, his voice a little high. "Absolutely crazy…"

Hermione walked a little closer to the cliff edge, peering down… the cliff they stood on was concaved inward, and there were no protruding rocks that might make for a nasty fall. She could see almost to the bottom of the clear blue water, but it didn't look shallow...and there didn't seem to be any rocks waiting down there, either.

"Well, one is generally recreational," Ginny continued with a little laugh.

Hermione wasn't usually the reckless sort, which was why she was taking her time, studying the situation.

She carefully judged the distance below, and shot Harry a look, her eyebrows raised. Her friend walked up next to her, peering down. He had a lot of experience on a broom, and he shrugged at the length of the drop. "Not very high at all, actually. Just looks that way from up here," he muttered to her. He must have known what she was thinking, because he took off his glasses carefully, smiling. "Ladies first."

...

Draco was still exchanging cheerful banter with Ginny, arguing about the insane recreational habits of muggles, when his gaze happened to slip over to Hermione and Harry. His jaw dropped.

Hermione was peeling off her shirt, her muggle underthings in plain view. He supposed they were exactly like her bikini, but seeing her strip so suddenly still shocked him.

"What are you…?" he started to ask, just as she finished kicking off her shoes and removing her shorts. She handed her wand to Harry and sent Draco an uncharacteristically evil smile before she jumped.

She _jumped_.

Off a _cliff_.

Draco ran to the edge a little in front of Ginny, wincing as he heard the delayed "splash!" from the calm waters below."Why the hell did she do that!?" Draco asked, talking to Harry but not taking his eyes away from the spot where Hermione had landed. Should he go after her? Was that the heroic thing to do? Even if he _should_, he sure as hell couldn't bring himself to _jump off a cliff_ to do so… maybe a levitating charm?

"Mostly for shock value, I think," Harry said, smiling. "And partly to shut you up."

Just then, Hermione surfaced, slicking back her hair and grinning up at them. She waved and whooped, bobbing with the small waves.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you!?" Draco called down. He was suddenly filled with anger, fed by his fear and the relief that she was, indeed, safe. He almost wanted to throw something at her. A shoe? Could he reach her with a shoe at this distance?

His heart was still in his throat when he heard a resounding whoop fly past his ear, the second case of _crazy_ jumping in after her friend. When had Ginny had time to strip down like that!? What was wrong with these women!?

When the redhead bobbed up out of the water, she laughed. "That was great!" she called up from Hermione's side. "Aren't you boys coming? Where's your manly pride, letting us go by ourselves?"

Draco noticed Harry adding his shirt to a pile of clothing and wands that had been started, carefully hidden under some brush. He took off his shoes, leaving his longer men's muggle shorts on as he followed the girls without fear. Draco watched him leap with the same cold-blooded shock as the first two.

"What… what do you mean, manly pride!?" Draco called down, ignoring the laughter Harry added as he popped back up. "Are you trying to question my manhood, or _sanity_, here!?"

Draco did _not_ have a fear of heights. When there was a solid broom beneath him, heights were no problem. But free-falling off the very high cliff? Why? For what purpose!?

Was this a Gryffindor thing? A hero thing? A muggle thing? What kind of reckless people had he trapped himself on an island with!?

"Come on Draco!" Hermione yelled. "It's fun!"

"_Fun_!? Why would that be fun? You know what's fun? _Living_!"

"Boo!" Ginny started calling up, her hands cupped to her mouth to make her voice carry.

"Come on, Draco. Give in to peer pressure," Harry added, a new childish side coming out as he swam towards the cave entrance. Ginny followed him, leaving only Hermione directly below Draco, staring up at him with a hand to her forehead to block the sunlight.

"Draco?" she called up.

She wasn't just challenging him. Somehow, she was testing him. But for what? Why?

He paced at the cliff face, trying to find an easy foothold to walk down. There really wasn't an easy path, which made him suddenly laugh in a small victory. "_How_ are you going to get back up?"

"What?"

"Well, you're so smart, jumping down there like that…I assumed you thought through how to get up?"

She shook her head. "We'll swim over to where there's easier footholds. The island isn't that big."

"Then I'll meet you wherever that is!" Draco called, making sure to slip into as disgruntled a tone as possible. The nerve of her, expecting him to go through with this!

Hermione frowned, and even at this distance, he could see the disappointment etched into her features. He stepped back from the cliff, hiding himself from her view.

'They even left their wands,' he thought grumpily, adding yet another reason why he didn't want to follow them. No wand, no easy way back up, soaking clothes, a long fall, possible sharks… it was stupid.

So stupid.

He kept telling himself that as he removed his light summer robes and stripped to his trousers.


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38: The Past **

Hermione couldn't help but feel disappointed… it was stupid to test him like that. She was perhaps acting a little too demanding by trying to make him jump after her. Somehow, though… she had hoped he would have been the second one off the cliff. She wanted him to chase her, even if it seemed a little risky.

A metaphor for their actual life? Maybe, but she really hadn't thought that far ahead when she had leapt.

She was halfway to the cave, Harry and Ginny already hidden inside, when she heard the splash.

He came up coughing, flailing his arms and shouting.

"Spuh! Ugh, I swallowed some… blagh!"

"Are you okay!?" she called, swimming speedily back towards her wet, grumpy husband. Even as she asked this with concern in her voice, she beamed. "You're braver than you look," she said by way of compliment, but he just glared at her, slicking back his hair and wiping at his eyes.

"Yes. I'm in all ways fantastic. Now, can you show me how you propose to get back up there and _never_ do anything like this again?"

"Oh, come on," she said, treading water and putting her palms flat to his chest. His heart was beating fast. She kissed him, tasting salt on his lips. "It was fun, wasn't it?"

"Fun!?" he cried, his mouth filling with water as he opened his mouth to shout, his mediocre swimming skills no match for the gentle waves. He sputtered. "No, not fun. I only did it for you, so you'd better remember this- don't you dare do something dangerous again, because I'll have to follow you, and I _like_ living. You moron."

He wasn't the second person in the water. But in the end, he _did_ follow her. She grinned, ignoring his nagging voice and instead leading the way to follow her friends.

...

Inside the cave, the land sloped upwards, making an easy climb out of the water and onto relatively dry, though quite slippery, rock. Harry and Ginny were already out of the water, sitting cozily next to each other while they waited, holding hands with their fingers intertwined on Ginny's lap.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw him, and to Draco's chagrin he smiled. "Hey, you did it."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Yes, and I've begun to see the error in judgment involved in befriending a bunch of Gryffindors."

"Aw!" Ginny squealed, squeezing Harry's hand. "He called us his _friends_!"

Draco could feel a twitch of annoyance starting at his eyebrow, in addition to the shiver running up his body at the chill of the dark cave and his wet pants. He definitely wasn't in the mood for more banter with the Weaslette- he wanted to get his wand, dry his clothes, and get back to the yacht where his safe, sane, smart-mouthed friend was waiting.

There was a pale beam of light, visible as an almost perfect cylinder, drawn down the back of the cave. Draco figured it was as good a place to start as any. He walked over, looking up.

The incline at the back of the cave was steep, but not unclimbable, and the hole at the top was big enough for them to go through. "You are all so lucky there's an easy way out of here," he muttered, shaking his head at the dumb luck.

"Careful…" Harry warned, coming up next to Draco as he started climbing up the incline. It wasn't easy with bare feet- the rocks were sharp, on top of being wet.

Hermione followed after him slowly, and he looked back down at her when he finally crawled out of the hole and onto the weedy dry ground above. He offered her a hand, despite his frustrations with the witch, pulling her up swiftly next to him.

She was still grinning. Mad. They were all mad.

"Here," she said, holding out a hand, "a reward."

There was a small shell in her hand. How had she even gotten up the cliff while clinging to it? He took it, examining the slightly pink curling shell. "You know, you don't have to jump off a cliff to get seashells. Next time you want one, I can buy one for you. I'll buy you barrels of them, if it stops you from doing something so alarming again."

Hermione kissed his cheek, then walked past him to locate their clothes and wands. Draco stood there, staring at the stupid little sentimental shell.

Ginny and Harry, being so damn athletic, had no trouble making it up the incline, and soon they were all dressed and dried off, and Draco was feeling definitively less pissy.

When they made it back to the boat, Pansy and Pietro were sitting nonchalantly in different seats than before, their clothing looking just a tad wrinkled and a smug smile on the former's face. Draco had a feeling that some mischief had gone on on their end, but he really didn't care. Jumping off a cliff was the low point of his day- Pans and her husband fooling around in his bed was really not nearly as bad.

Just as they stepped onto the boat, Hermione, behind him, let out a gasp.

"What?" he asked, turning around, but she wasn't looking at him. She had a hand up to shield her eyes, and was squinting back up the stairs they had just descended.

"I thought I saw… did anyone else see a flash of light? Was it lightning?"

Draco peered up at the clear, blue sky. He shook his head- there wasn't a storm cloud in sight.

"Nevermind," Hermione muttered. "I must be seeing things."

"Should we check it out?" Harry asked, the crazy bastard actually volunteering to climb _back up_ that monster stairway.

"No. I think I'm just dehydrated," Hermione answered, heading for the cooled mini-bar and pulling out another bottled water.

...

They fished, they ate, they swam again… Draco complained endlessly about how crazy they all were with Pansy, reliving the cliff diving over and over again. Hermione was sure his story kept getting wilder, from the height of the cliffs to the likelihood of sharks.

"How do we get back?" Harry asked. "Portkey again?"

It was a legitimate question- Hermione hadn't heard mention of what the portkey would be to return with, or where it was set to take them.

"Uh, yeah… this is the part that could get a little tricky," Draco answered, clearing his throat from his spot seated by the window. The sun was starting to go down- it was about time they leave. "You see, portkeys have to be tied to a specific location. I carried the one linked here to Grimmauld Place, but the one back is linked to the Manor…"

"What!?" Hermione cried, suddenly sitting bolt upright in her chair. "Why didn't you say something earlier? Maybe we could have set up an alternate route."

"Long-distance portkeys are tricky- there's no need to go sending ourselves to Japan on accident, now is there? Or overshoot and end up in the ocean? Don't worry- I talked with my mother, and she'll make sure no one see's us. It'll take us to the entryway- we are to leave at exactly seven, when dinner is served at the Manor, and everyone can leave quietly."

"What do you mean you talked with your mother?" Pansy remarked, an eyebrow raised. "Your mother knows the details of this little… trip?"

"Uh… more or less. Yes. She'll do anything to make sure this-" he gestured between Hermione and himself, "-remains a secret from my father."

"That's insane!" Pansy huffed. "It'll just make him furious when he finds out- and he _will_ find out. You're not exactly subtle lately, Draco. It's only a matter of time before the whole Wizarding world knows about 'Draco's amazing transformation!' There's a story to sell to the Prophet, right there…"

"She's probably hoping you'll get tired of me," Hermione said quietly, thinking. She meant it as an offhand comment; simply thinking aloud. But Draco turned to her, his eyes burning and his teeth gritting together.

"I've made it clear that that's not happening, and that she shouldn't get her hopes up."

Hermione blinked, feeling as though she had been stunned. "But… so… you've talked to your mother? About us? What… what exactly did you say? What did _she_ say!?"

Draco got real quiet, and muttered, "Your curiosity can be a little invasive, you know," he sighed, and the room was suddenly so quiet you could hear the light beginnings of rain tapping on the window. "She said she would stand by me- she wouldn't let father throw me out. I'm not sure that that's actually very meaningful, since she really doesn't have the power to _do_ anything on that front. My father's in charge of the household, and can allocate funds however he sees fit."

"Your parents love each other," Pansy surprised them all by saying. She was staring down at her tea with clouded eyes, her fingers caressing the cup lightly as if seeking to absorb it's warmth. "Women generally don't have much power over house funds in families such as ours, but money isn't the only power in the world. If anyone can convince Lucius to accept your decision, it would be your mother. If she really is taking your side, then that changes everything. She's clever, and she really loves both you and your father. I think she's the best ally you could hope for."

Hermione wanted to say something comforting, but she found that there were no words to properly express herself. This was a world that Pansy and Draco both knew better than she could ever hope to- sometimes the Manor felt like the Twilight Zone to her, but Pansy seemed to understand the situation very clearly.

And there was so much left unsaid in the girl's speech. Pansy's parents _didn't_ try to accept her. Neither of them. They sent murderers after the man Pansy loved, and drove her away.

Still, she really hoped Pansy was right. If Draco lost everything because of her… she might never forgive herself.

...

As Draco predicted, the entryway was clear when they ported into the Manor. They walked their friends silently out to the front gate, waving goodbye as Pansy and Pietro apparated to the Secret Cottage, and Ginny and Harry to Grimmauld Place.

"Well, that wasn't such a bad trip, was it?" Hermione said with a grin. "I think you and Harry are even becoming friends."

Draco blanched. "Ugh. Don't say that, please. The twelve-year-old in me is rebelling and trying to force my dinner back up."

"It's not such a tragedy, is it? Making new friends?"

"Not if there's an alternate motive- I suppose I can rationalize that being friends with those two means I have connections with the Aurors. Being allies with the most famous wizard of this generation can't exactly hurt, either, I guess…"

Hermione laughed. "Yes, let's weigh the costs and benefits of every relationship. So, what do you get, still being friends with Pansy?"

"Oh, easy- someone who appreciates my sense of humor. I consider boosts to my ego to be extremely beneficial."

"Oh? And what about with me? What do you get?"

Draco fought the urge to back her into the closed front door and shove his tongue down her throat in answer. He had to be cautious, out in the open like this. He cleared his throat. "Let me assure you that the benefits far outweigh the cost, with you." He grinned. "And in case you missed it, I meant that in a sexual way."

She raised an eyebrow. "That's it, then? Sex?"

He grew a bit startled, realizing in his attempts to be funny he might have insulted her. "Uh, of course not! I was joking… come on, Hermione." She was walking ahead of him into the Manor. "I mean… benefits… uh…"

She swiveled on her heel, facing him with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Well?"

He stepped close, prying her arms apart and holding her hands. He moved his thumbs over them softly, drawing circles on her skin. "You win this fake argument- you can't put a price on friendship, you can't rationalize, blah blah blah." He grinned, but she didn't look particularly amused. "I could never list what you give me."

"Try," she whispered. They were in the Manor now, and instinctively they were both whispering.

He gulped, thinking hard as his face flushed. He really didn't like getting all sappy, but it appeared that nothing less would appease her. "You give me… someone who doesn't just listen, but offers valuable opinions and perspectives. Someone who can be my partner… I guess I've never really had many relationships like that in the past. I never saw someone as my equal before you." He looked down at her expectant face, trying to sort through the tumble of words flying through his head. "I can count on you… and I know you'll understand my feelings in ways I even don't. You love me, even after… even after all that's happened in the past. I can't even properly explain how it feels to be forgiven, but after that night, when you were captured and brought to the Manor during the war…"

"There was nothing you could do- I never blamed _you_."

"But I didn't forgive myself, before. I heard your screams in my nightmares, Hermione. There was so much…" he gripped her hands hard, closing his eyes. He didn't want his words to lead him down this particular path, but it was hard not to. It hurt to remember, but it wasn't right to just forget. "… so much pain in this house. Not just you. I…"

He was shaking, now, and Hermione let go of his hands and instead put her arms around his shoulders, drawing him down for a hug. "I don't speak for anyone else, but as for me, I forgive you. Draco, the things that happened that year won't ever just go away, but underneath everything there was always someone truly good inside you. You had a conscience, something most of the Death Eaters had abandoned. That made you redeemable, always."

"You make me want to be more, Hermione," Draco whispered, continuing with the line of thoughts marching through his brain. Why did he need her? It was a ridiculous question- he needed her like he needed himself. He needed her because she had become his life, somehow, seeping into every crack in his soul. She had transformed him into something new, something better than the man he was destined to become.

He could never become his father- it simply wasn't possible anymore.

...

Narcissa Malfoy fumed. She couldn't believe how stupid her own child could be. Hadn't she raised him better than this? If he was going to act morally bankrupt and shame his family, then at least he should know better than to do so where anyone could see. She had thought she could wait for Hermione to head off on her own to the library or wherever she spent her time, and speak to Draco alone. However, their indecent display of affection in the middle of the foyer was just too much.

She stepped past the archway and into the room, clearing her throat loudly. The two hormonal children, to Narcissa's satisfaction, looked properly ashamed of themselves as they quickly broke apart from their embrace, hands thrown behind their backs in an effort to look innocent in front of her.

She shook her head. "What is wrong with you two? Such a scene… and you're late! Dinner ended ten minutes ago! Lucius is in his study, and you are both very lucky of that fact." She didn't know which would have been worse for her husband to walk in on- the two embracing, or the series of overtly romantic and sickeningly sweet declarations proceeding it.

The situation had spun much further from her control than she had ever realized- if she let her disgust be known to her son, she would lose him. She was even more certain of that now, after hearing his words- he would leave if he had to. The only thing she could do was respect his decision to the best of her capacity, or risk him hating her.

Some small voice inside her also admitted that _she_ hadn't been able to protect Draco from the war… but Hermione seemed to be handling his past well. He seemed… happier, lighter, even, than he had been in years. If Hermione could have only been at least half-blood, Narcissa might have been grateful.

"Sorry, mother," Draco said sincerely. "We'll, ah… be more careful."

Narcissa scoffed, quickly walking up her son, her heels clicking menacingly on the marble floor. "Careful?" her eyes snapped to Hermione, and she knew a moment of satisfaction when the girl looked away from her eyes first. "Do you think this is a game?"

"Narcissa- I'm sorry. You're right. We're being disrespectful, especially since you seem to be working so hard to keep our secret." Hermione met her eyes again, and the determination in them was startling. "But maybe keeping this a secret until it explodes is not the wisest choice, anyways."

Narcissa was satisfied to notice that the wide-eyed disbelief on her sons face mirrored her own as they both stared at the frizzy-haired girl.

"Hermione… if you're suggesting that we go confront my father, talk about our feelings, and then all go drink coco on the porch I might have to tie you up and ship you to St. Mungoes because you've clearly lost your mind," Draco said, and Narcissa nodded in approval. At least her son still had the sense to argue with the girl when she was wrong. He wasn't completely under her spell.

Hermione threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine. I was just thinking about what Pansy said…"

"Parkinson!?" Narcissa cried, her eyes nearly popping out of her skull. She looked demandingly at her son, who shrank back noticeably.

"Uh… yes. She was at the villa, too."

"She was hiding there, all this time? Did you only just find out? Her parents have been worried sick looking for her…"

"Her parents," Hermione chimed in, "are foul. She's been hiding out somewhere secret, and we're not allowed to give details."

Narcissa's mind whirled. She knew something had seemed _off_ about the Parkinsons, but the letters she had received about their daughter going missing had seemed so genuine. She knew them well, but perhaps she didn't know all they were capable of. She wasn't even sure what Lucius was capable of, in these difficult and confusing times. "What did they do?" she asked quietly, unsure of why she expected a clear answer.

"They tried to kill her husband," Draco answered clearly. There was something fierce in his cool grey eyes- a challenging look that had never been there before. It looked too much like what Narcissa had seen in Hermione's eyes on more than one occasion, and it disturbed her. "So they ran away and hid. She has very few people she can trust, but she trusts me. No matter what lies the Parkinsons have told you, mother, I won't help them locate her in any fashion."

Hermione was giving him a rather sickening nod of approval, a little smile forming on her wretched face. Narcissa didn't like where any of this was going- Draco was becoming reckless, disobedient, and opinionated. Maybe it was just a phase?

Narcissa frowned. "Very well. Just don't let yourself get dragged into her mess, Draco," she said, before turning around and heading back towards her lounge. She had almost exited back through the archway when Hermione's voice rang out, "Mrs. Malfoy? Can you tell me who Franny Fortune was?"

She froze, an icy chill running sharp up her spine and a stinging pain in her heart causing her to nearly double over. She whirled, her teeth bared, and both Hermione and her son looked positively alarmed at her instant change. "No, I don't! Don't ever mention that name again, you filthy, meddling mudblood! How dare you even…." She knew she was letting her emotions get out of control, but she didn't care. She wanted to _hurt_ the girl who would dare bring up a person who had long since been buried in Narcissa's heart. She wanted to whip out her wand and send the little bitch flying. Instead, she fought to control herself, noticing the cold anger seeping into her son's eyes.

He was what mattered. The past didn't matter.

She took a deep, shaky breath, closing her eyes and facing her palms down towards the ground in a steadying motion. Without a word, she retreated on clicking heels, and neither of the children were brave enough to try and stop her.


	39. Chapter 39

**Chapter 39: The Prophet**

"Franny Fortune?" Draco asked, confused enough that his curiosity won out over his anger at his mother's outburst. "It sounds like a made-up name."

Hermione sighed. "Well, a lot of Wizarding names seem pretty made up…I don't think either of us can call the kettle black, _Draco_." She started walking towards the library, and Draco walked at her side. "Don't you remember the photo album I found in the attic? That was the name of the girl in the picture I showed you. I think."

"Oh. I forgot. But then, why would my mother act that way… in the photo you showed me, they looked like they were friends, even."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. But since your mother seems to have been on better terms with me lately, I thought I could ask her. I thought wrong."

Draco snickered. "Yeah, you probably should have just let me talk to her. She must have had a fight with the girl at some point- maybe they both wanted to buy the same one-of-a-kind designer dress robe for the Yule Ball."

Hermione gave him a skeptical look.

"What? Such things have happened in the past. My mother and Mrs. Parkinson went two years without speaking after she outbid my mother at a charity auction on a rare designer handbag."

So, Narcissa had a temper and could hold a grudge. What else was new?

But something seemed off about her reaction… it wasn't just anger, really. It was close to hysteria. Hermione had thought, for a moment, that the woman was going to attack her for even mentioning the name.

"Whatever happened between your mother and Franny Fortune must have been pretty serious. Franny, the ghost, didn't look much older than in the pictures… there's more to this story than we can possibly guess." Like what this had to do with the manuscript and the baby, or if those things were even related. Was the baby Franny's? Did they die in some accident, and Narcissa felt responsible?

Or maybe-and the thought chilled her to the bone- maybe Narcissa _was_ responsible, somehow.

…

Ginny picked up her copy of the Daily Prophet that had just been delivered, settling down to a lovely breakfast prepared by Kreatcher. Harry was still in the shower- they had to work in an hour, and Ginny was seriously feeling a case of the 'Mondays.' She wished she owned an island that she could escape to each weekend… it had been a nice trip…

The front page had two articles covering it, and as she read their titles she spit her tea out onto the table and began to cough and sputter.

One article was called, "The Marriage Law- The End?" and the other was "War Hero Against the Ministry: Could Harry Potter Secretly be Responsible for the Missing Persons?"

Both were written by Rita Skeeter. Ginny chose the second article to read first, folding the paper to grip it easier and pouring her eyes over the page.

There was a picture of Harry, Ginny, Draco, Hermione, Pansy, and Pietro on the yacht, everyone drinking and smiling. As she looked at the picture, the moving images of Hermione and Draco kissed, while Pansy fanned herself and lounged in the thoroughly rich lazy way she had the whole weekend. Okay, she was pregnant, so she got a pass, but Ginny was certain that Pansy would be the same either way.

"_Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Destroyer of the Dark Lord Voldemort, Order of Merlin First Class__, was recently seen in a very shocking location, with guests that will no doubt concern his well-meaning, though sometimes zealot-like, fans. The accompanying picture is no real surprise to our loyal readers who remember the article on Mr. Malfoy in June. In that incident, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were both seen as the heroes in the largest Death Eater roundup since the end of the war, swooping in dramatically to save Mrs. Hermione Malfoy (former__ly__ Granger). No doubt you will remember this humble reporter's take on such events, as I have been one of the truest and __loyalest__ followers of Mr. Potter in my writing career. In their school days, Mr. Potter held the deepest resentment for Mr. Malfoy, and I speculated that this was perhaps due to their very different family situations. Young Potter, with tears in his eyes, told me how he always longed for a family, something his school rival had that he did not. With the incident in June, however, I have begun to reform my opinion- perhaps their rivalry had more to do with Miss Hermione Granger, whom Mr. Potter was desperately in love with during his fourth year."_

Ginny blanched, rolling her eyes. The Skeeter woman took forever to get to the point.

"_The camaraderie of the boys to save their mutual love…"_ Ginny skimmed, trying to get to the actual article, _"…formed a new friendship… seen on Malfoy's private island in Eastern Europe… perhaps there is more to their partnership than meets the eye?" _Ginny sipped her tea again, feeling a wave of dread settling in her stomach. _"It seems that Pansy __Smith__ (formerly Parkinson),"_ Ginny held in a chuckle. Smith? She had been expecting something a little more exotic. No wonder Pansy hadn't mentioned her last name. It was so commonly muggle- it probably drove her crazy, _"is indeed in contact with her long-time friend Draco Malfoy, and new ally Harry Potter. This news comes on the tail of the Wizengamot's decision to revoke the Marriage Law, which was established last February to help reform the minds and improve the population of the Wizarding World. This Law, which at first seemed rather tasteless to this reporter, has proved to produce some great prospective numbers. Just as it seemed that all was going well, the missing person's cases came flooding in._

_If Mr. Potter is indeed working closely with those who went missing, we can only assume such an act was done for a very clear and, to some, a noble reason: To undermine the legitimacy of the Marriage Law. With so many of his friends affected, it would be logical to conclude that Mr. Potter had more than enough motive to encourage the Wizengamot to revoke the Law._

_But to falsify missing person's cases seems, to this humble reporter, to be a little over the line of common decency. I recently sat down with a distraught Mrs. Parkinson, to talk about the news that her daughter is, indeed, alive and well…"_

Ginny clenched the paper and ran to the bathroom, throwing open the door. She rushed to the warm steamy shower, wrenching the curtain to the side. Harry, naked, soapy, and nearly blind without his glasses, stared at her.

"Harry, we have a problem," Ginny said.

"Er… the kind of problem that won't let me wash the shampoo from my hair?"

Ginny's eyes raked over his body, the corner of her mouth turning upward. She sighed heavily. "Yes. And more importantly, the kind that doesn't leave time for me to slip into that shower with you. Hurry, get dressed. I'll explain on the way to the Manor."

"The Manor?"

"Yes. We need to talk to Hermione. More importantly, there's no way you can go to work at the Ministry today without being ganged up on by the press."

Harry groaned, scrubbing hurriedly at his hair and shutting off the water. "What did the Prophet say about me this time?"

Ginny pointed to the picture on the cover of the paper, waiting as Harry picked up his glasses and placed them hurriedly on his wet face.

"Oh. Shit."

...

When Ginny pulled the rope by the front gate of the Manor, she was relieved that a house elf answered her call. Coming uninvited to a place like this, she half expected to have a bucket of water dump on her instead every time she pulled that cord.

The elf took one look at them and dissapperated, not waiting long enough for Ginny to speak. She looked back at Harry, who shrugged. She supposed it was fairly obvious who they were, but she didn't know if she could interpret the elf's departure to mean that it was getting someone for them, or expected them to leave.

A moment later the gate slid noiselessly open, and the two made their way cautiously to the front door. "Hermione would have met us at the gate…" Ginny mumbled, and Harry nodded in silent agreement.

Ginny raised her hand to knock on the door, but in what seemed to be a last minute impulse decision Harry pulled her behind him, raising his own fist to the white-painted wood instead. He only knocked once when the large door opened to reveal the master of the house.

Lucius Malfoy.

Harry tensed, one hand on Ginny's thin wrist to keep her forcibly behind him.

"Well, I see you've read the morning paper, Mr. Potter. As have I." His eyes flashed, and then his lips pulled back in what was no doubt supposed to be a charming smile. To Ginny, it looked repulsive, like he was wearing a stiff mask and behind it he was growling. "I believe my wife is more adapt at social calls- please, come in, and I'll ask her to meet you in the den with coffee."

"Er, we came to see Hermione," Ginny said, and Harry stepped back on her toe. She let out a painful hiss, glaring at her husband's back. What was his problem?

"I'm afraid I must insist… if you are paying a call to our household without an invitation, it would be rude of you to ignore the owners of the house."

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Rude. I _suppose_ some coffee wouldn't kill us…"

If there was a hidden implication in his words, Lucius ignored it. He also ignored the obvious venom in Harry's stare, instead leaving the door open for them to enter behind him.

Lucius apparated away, calling for a house elf to show them to the den. Before he left, he bowed his head slightly, gesturing politely to Harry.

"Okay, this is very strange," Ginny whispered as they followed the elf. "Why exactly can't we just go find Hermione?"

"This place is huge- where would we even look for her?"

"What if she's in trouble?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think that article was enough for Lucius to try anything risky."

"Then why do they want to talk with us? Why was he being so damn polite? It was… creepy, actually."

"Well," Harry started, thinking, "I suppose that, with their goal being to drag their family name out of the mud, having me as a friend is better than having me as an enemy. They probably don't have a problem with that aspect of the picture. If anything, I'd bet they want to know about Pansy."

Ginny snorted. "Mrs. Smith. Good thing we don't know squat about where she is- let's just drink that hopefully-not-poisoned coffee and find our favorite taboo couple in a hurry."

...

Narcissa knew exactly what was going through Lucius' mind that morning as he read the Prophet. He was rationalizing- why would Draco be friends with Potter? Why, he must be using his connection with Hermione to form a powerful connection, just as his father had taught him.

Potter was alright. Potter was power, and the family could use all the power they could get.

This business about Potter hiding Pansy was obvious tripe. Pansy was Draco's friend… and that worried Narcissa as much as she could see it worried Lucius, too.

But there was one more puzzling thing in the article, one thing that made Lucius look up at his wife sternly. Narcissa kept eating her breakfast, avoiding her husband's searching eyes.

Draco and Hermione looked a little too cozy in the accompanying picture.

"Narcissa, what exactly is the meaning of this?" he asked, his voice calm but anger clearly on the precipice. He was trying to rationalize again, but Narcissa knew it wouldn't be an easy thing to explain away.

So she would have to provide an in-depth explanation. A complex lie.

"Oh, Lucius, dear… I was all alone here. You don't know how hard it was, a single woman trying to control the finances, household, societal gatherings, her son's wedding…" She put a hand to her forehead lightly, as if suddenly pained by a headache. She tried her best to look stricken as she closed her eyes. "I told Draco not to play around with that girl. It would have been better if he had just let her alone, but you know how kids their age are. I had enough to worry about- I couldn't control their… urges… in addition to everything else." She would play this off as some fling- this was just Draco and Hermione acting like horny teenagers. This was nothing more. It was rational, and what's more, Lucius couldn't blame her if she made herself seem weak.

Lucius frowned. "I wasn't aware Draco could stomach such a thing… but I suppose desperate times call for desperate measures. As long as he doesn't hurt the girl, and they can divorce on good terms, then there will be no harm to the Malfoy name. Please, Narcissa, you mustn't blame yourself. Boys will be boys… and what Draco said is correct- if he was caught with some other witch it would make quite a scandal. All you and Draco have done is the best you could do for the family."

He grabbed her hand, smiling down at her, and she knew a wave of guilt at deceiving her husband. Lucius was a good man… she loved him dearly… but she never knew when he would put his pride above common sense. She couldn't let him know that Draco didn't plan on breaking things off with his muggle-born bride, even though the Prophet clearly indicated that the Marriage Law would be dissolved sometime in the coming months.

Oh, when he found out he would be so angry… she hoped that she could maybe build him up to it. He needed to see all of Draco's good points, all the work and trouble he had been put through to secure their place in proper society.

Narcissa knew that all of Draco's good points, however, could never make up for his weakness in Lucius' eyes. Falling for the mudblood was a sin that couldn't be balanced… but Narcissa would try.

Which was why she and Lucius were now sitting across from Harry and Ginny Potter, drinking coffee and trying to pretend that this situation wasn't entirely bizarre.

"Narcissa tells me, Mrs. Potter, that you've come to visit your friend here on several occasions."

"Oh? Then no doubt you've heard what a charming dinner guest I am." The cheeky little witch replied with what almost appeared to be a genuine smile, nodding at Narcissa. She wasn't sure how to even respond to that… she had expected a bit of caution and maybe even fear from the two youths… possibly defiance and anger… but cheerful optimism? So strange.

Harry shook his head, turning to look Lucius straight in the eyes. "We support Hermione no matter what. When this… arrangement was first made, I wanted nothing more than to knock your son's teeth out." Narcissa gasped, but Lucius just watched Harry with his usual cold stare reserved for those who were beneath him. "However, Draco's proved himself to be a real gentleman throughout these past months. If he made her cry, we would hear about it, but instead he's handled himself very maturely. Hermione was put into a very awkward position, but I can respect that Draco was, too. I like to think that we've become friends, in a way. Or at least that we have an understanding."

This topic was starting to make Narcissa nervous. She didn't think Potter would let anything slip about the true nature of Draco and Hermione's relationship, but she wasn't sure about the quick-tongued Weasley. "Tell us, Mr. Potter, how do you know our dear Pansy? She spent so much time at the Manor as a child… I think of her as family. We've been quite worried, you know," she said, indicating herself and Lucius. She wasn't sure if Lucius had actually been worried or not. Since the Marriage Law had been announced, neither of them had given Draco's former fiancé much thought really. Until now.

Now that Pansy, the missing daughter of their pure-blood friends, was photographed with their son, there were implications that had to be dealt with. The Ministry could bring real trouble down on their family if they could connect the missing people with the Malfoys…. And Narcissa was sure they would try.

"She has her own reasons for hiding- she was only there because she's friends with Draco," Harry answered.

"But you see," Lucius began, his voice quiet and calm, "this has now become our problem, too. We can't let ourselves be associated with any illegal activity. If you know her whereabouts, it would be wise for us to return her to her parents…"

Narcissa's head snapped to her husband. She had told him what she had heard about the Parkinsons. How could he want to ally himself with people like that, people who would sell out their child?

No, not their child… her husband. They were only trying to save her from a horrible, blood-traitor fate. But because of the way they handled things, with no regard for their child's feelings, they lost her forever. Narcissa's hands tightened in her lap. She wouldn't lose Draco like that. "No," Narcissa said, contradicting her husband. He looked up at her, surprised. "We should turn her into the Ministry, so she can explain her situation to the Aurors. Being in hiding is different from being 'missing.' The ministry needs to know that she is safe, and beyond that she should be allowed to go about her business."

Harry shook his head. "Like I said, it's not my business."

"It is your business, now. If the Ministry decides to press charges against you for kidnapping, you'll lose your position as an Auror," Lucius said matter-of-factly.

Narcissa nodded. Potter had every bit as much to lose from that picture as the Malfoy's did. Well, maybe not quite as much… chances were good that no one would formally charge Potter. Who would dare?

"We plan on talking to Draco and Hermione about it," Ginny piped up. "Draco is the only one who knows where Pansy is- maybe he can talk her into dropping by the Ministry? But let me make it clear- nothing will make her go back home. She's made her decision, and even though I don't know her well I think she's very brave."

Narcissa frowned. Too close for comfort. The sooner they sent these two to their son and daughter-in-law the better. "Thank you- I'm sure even an owl from her could clear this all up for us."

They nodded, both leaving the room quietly behind an elf Narcissa ordered to take them to Hermione. Lucius watched their retreating backs thoughtfully. "I think," he said quietly, "that Pansy may be a bad influence on our boy. I think I'll have a talk with him later to make sure he doesn't spend any more time with her. In fact… being friendly with Potter is one thing, but if he's going to go on vacation, better to bring the right sort with him. Zabini and Goyle. Perhaps the Greengrass family?"

"They've gone missing too," Narcissa answered flatly, not even bothering to mention that one of the Greengrass' had been responsible for their son almost getting killed. She didn't want to talk about that night, even though Lucius no doubt knew the overall details by now. If she talked about it, she would have to try and rationalize Draco's actions once again… and it was getting tiring lying so much.

...

Hermione jumped when she heard the knock on the door, hurriedly buttoning that last of her robes as she threw a worried look at Draco. They both had to get to their internships- Hermione only had a week left, and she'd hate to be late when her boss would be deciding if he wanted to keep her on full time.

She wasn't sure if she should try and hide in the closet or what- would Lucius knock on Draco's door? She grabbed her wand off the nightstand, feeling a little insecure.

Draco opened the door cautiously, his look of shock worrying Hermione. She couldn't tell who it was from the angle she was currently at, pressed behind the door. She was certain she looked silly, but the last thing they needed was for Lucius to find them together…

"The, uh… House Elf was supposed to lead us to Hermione," a familiar deep voice said, and Hermione scrambled from behind the door.

"Harry?" she asked, flummoxed. Ginny, too, was standing right behind him and waving.

"So it brought you to my _bedroom_?" Draco asked, sneering down at the bowing elf. "Next time, take them to a sitting area and come get me. Is this your first day, or what?"

"Yes, I will young master! I is apologizing for my stupidity. Stupid house elf, should have known better than to take orders so literally…"

"It's fine, geez. Just go." Draco muttered, and Hermione smacked his arm roughly, glowering as he rubbed at the sore spot.

She turned to the elf. "Thank you," she said, before it dissaperated. "What brings you to our, er, bedroom?" she asked, and Ginny reached past Harry with a copy of the prophet, shoving it in her face. She didn't even need to read anything- the moment she saw the picture, she understood all the implications. She groaned. "Well, I guess I know what that flash I saw was."

"Your parents are freaking out," Ginny informed Draco. "We know this for a fact, because we just sat down and _had coffee with them_. If we keel over in the next thirty minutes, we've been poisoned."

"They want Pansy to turn herself into the Ministry, so they can see she's fine. We told them that it's not our call in any way."

Draco scowled. "She doesn't have to come at the beck and call of anybody- if she wants to stay hidden, she should stay hidden."

"We agree- but if she could send in a note, it might clear us both of kidnapping," Harry muttered, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.

"Kidnapping?" Hermione snatched the Prophet, reading quickly. "Really? Skeeter, that woman… ha! Apparently Harry and Draco have been secretly fighting over me for years. What do you think of that, Draco?" she said, knocking the rolled up paper against Draco's chest with a "plop." He grabbed it, skimming the article himself.

"The real problem," Ginny said, walking boldly into the bedroom instead of standing and talking from the hallway, "is that the Ministry won't be the only ones to see this. The Death Eaters might think you've got Pansy stashed away here at your house, Draco."

Draco paled noticeably, and Hermione had to admit Ginny had a point. If the Death Eaters were desperate to get muggle-borns, and both the war-hero Hermione and the husband of the blood-traitor Pansy were in one house, who knows what they might resort to?

"I think it's best if your mother doesn't plan any parties anytime soon," Hermione mumbled, and Draco nodded in agreement, his eyes still on the paper.

Harry followed Ginny in, and Hermione shut the door, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing.

"Only a couple months until the end of the Marriage Law," Ginny said, nodding towards Draco, who was reading the newspaper and sitting on the edge of his enormous bed.

Hermione flashed him a worried look, and he looked up, nodding. She must have missed that article.

Months? It seemed much too soon… so much pressure on Draco. Hermione walked over, putting a hand gently on his shoulder.

"I think it's safe to say none of us should go work at the Ministry today… and there are already reporters at our house. Pretty sure it's just a matter of time before they end up here."

"The press isn't brave enough to come to the Manor," Draco muttered. "When my father was first put in Azkaban, a few years ago, we hadn't taken down some of our nastier protective spells and, well… there was a man who's camera sort of… ate him. Not all of him!" he amended quickly. "He didn't _die_. He just sorta… lost a few chunks."

"So, mind if we stick around your place today and hide from Skeeter and Company?" Ginny asked, grinning.

"Ginny…" Harry muttered, obviously thinking she was being rude.

"Oh, come on! He's got that giant Quidditch pitch out back, and no one to play with," Ginny said, putting a positive spin on the morning's surprises.

Draco shook his head, amazed. "Fine," he said, standing up and throwing the paper onto his bed. "If only all the problems in the world could be solved by Quidditch."

"That's the spirit! Hermione- two on two?"

"No way," she said, following close behind Draco as he led the way to her old hallway and back door to the pitch. "You know my rule- I don't get on a broom unless it's a life or death situation."

"But you'll jump off a cliff?" Draco asked.

"Yes. A _small_ cliff."

…

_A/N: When Draco chastised the house elf, I wanted him to ask "Are you hourly?" instead of "Is this your first day?" because I watch too much Archer. XD But I decided it didn't make enough sense because, you know... house elves are slaves and all that jazz._


	40. Chapter 40

**Chapter 40: The Manor's Defenses**

Hermione settled for sitting on the cool grass near the Quidditch pitch, watching her three friends play. They took turns being Keepers and Chasers, and Hermione acted as the personal cheer squad for whoever the current chaser at play was.

Draco groaned loud enough for her to hear on the ground as Harry scored a particularly nice goal, dodging Ginny and throwing the Quaffle right through Draco's extended arms. Hermione cheered Harry on, and Draco turned his broom to face her. "Hey, traitor!" he called down, "isn't there a rule about rooting for your friends over your husband? I'm going to hide a snitch in your underwear drawer, woman!"

Hermione laughed and clapped, and Ginny called out, "That's not a wise decision, Draco- she'd have to owl Harry to come over and catch it!"

"Oi! Was that a crack about my Seeking ability? That's it- Hermione! Release the snitch!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, walking over to the trunk on the ground full of struggling sports equipment. It felt like they had been out there for hours, and while she found the game completely boring she did enjoy her friend's sense of humor.

Once the snitch was released, however, everything got a lot more competitive between the two boys. Ginny had never been much of a Seeker compared to Harry, but then neither had Draco… but now it seemed, with his pride on the line, he was really giving it his all. Though, the same had probably been true in school...

Hermione shook her head as she watched them feign sightings, dipping and zooming and circling. Ginny dropped to the ground, a little out of breath as she sat down next to Hermione.

"Finished playing?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Kinda worried I'll get knocked off my broom- look at them go. It's not like this is a House Championship, but I guess with both of them having their wives watch there's a bit more testosterone up there than I want to deal with."

It was about noon when the sky started to grow dark, clouds rolling in in menacing waves. They almost looked alive, and Hermione knew the storm would start pretty quickly.

"Think we can get them to go in before it rains?" She asked, and Ginny just laughed and shook her head in response.

"I think they'd both have to be struck by lightning- there!" Ginny cried, point at a small flash of metal by the topmost keeper's goal.

Hermione squinted, but the snitch was already gone. She never could keep up with it- she thought it was a miracle anyone ever found it at all. Such a small shiny thing, and the boys chasing it were riding broomsticks, which were not the easiest things to maneuver if you didn't know what you were doing. It was like trying to catch a fly with chopsticks, and yet she had seen it done time and time again.

Draco surged forward towards the goal, but seemed to lose sight of the snitch. He circled the post slowly, while Harry remained stationed a ways off, just watching and waiting.

Another flash! Closer to Draco than Harry, but higher up. Draco didn't see it immediately, and Harry dove. Draco noticed the other boys movement and swung his head up, finally seeing the golden ball. He pulled back on his broom, and at this point it could be either of the boy's game.

Suddenly, rain started to fall, in almost unnaturally heavy sheets. Hermione gasped, pulling her wand out of her sleeve and creating a shield above her head to keep off the water. Ginny had done the same, but they were both instantly soaked through faster than a spell could be cast.

"Did you see? Did one of them get it?" Ginny asked, peering up at the thick black watery sky.

Hermione shook her head. She couldn't even _see_ the boys anymore.

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightning, huge and far too near. There was no thunder… just lightning. Hermione stared at the spot in the sky where it had been. It looked… odd. A little too straight, and was it just the aftereffects of the light burned into her eyes, or had the lightning been _blue_?

Another stroke, and with it the outline of the security bubble on the house lit up like a stadium, the blue outline of the Manor's defenses crisp and even… except in one spot. Where the lightning hit, there was a very perfect, round hole of black.

"Harry! Draco!" Ginny screamed, cupping her hands to her mouth. She seemed to realize at the same time as Hermione what was happening.

The Manor was under attack.

...

Draco landed swiftly, wiping the rain from his eyes. He stared up at the ominous blue shield in the sky, noticing the hole for the first time. "Shit," he muttered.

"So much for 'no one can get through the Manor's defenses,'" Harry said, pulling his wand as they stepped close to the girls.

"We have to get inside!" Hermione called over the gushing rain.

Ginny picked up her broom. "Let's fly- no one can apparate into the mansion without a Malfoy, right? So I'm betting they're going to come in through that hole if we're not all being paranoid."

She was right- they had to hurry. "The manor has plenty of other defenses- we have to get inside. We'll be safer inside!"

He got on his broom and grabbed Hermione by the arm, pulling her behind him. She got the hint, climbing onto the back of his broom. The three of them kicked off from the ground, flying quickly over the gardens and towards the back entrance of the Manor. "Only in a life or death situation, huh?" he muttered as Hermione tightened her arms around his waist and buried her face in his back.

The next shot of lightning seemed to charge the shield, making it glow brighter and creating a second hole. Draco thought he could make out distant shadows silhouetted against the eerie blue backdrop, but he couldn't be certain at this distance.

Still, if they were Death Eaters on brooms they would be on them in seconds. They had to reach the Manor, find his parents, and decide whether to run or fight. Draco would prefer to run, but leaving the Manor seemed… weak. To be forced from your own home was not something a Malfoy should put up with.

His father would have a plan.

Ginny and Harry landed lightly on the back patio. Draco wasn't used to the extra weight on his broom, so their landing was a little rough, Hermione falling off and rolling on the wood deck. She stood up quickly, uninjured, but Draco felt a bit guilty as he threw his broom to the side. "Come on," he said, leading the way inside.

They were in Hermione's old sunroom, now. Whatever the lightning was doing to the security system, it was also doing something strange to the lights. Magic seemed to charge the room, the lamps flickering on and off in a way that hurt Draco's eyes.

He led the way down the hall, peering over his shoulder to make sure everyone was following. Ginny was immediately behind him, wand out and facing front, while Hermione and Harry were behind her, keeping their eyes over their shoulders and maintaining defensive posture.

"I saw them swooping down," Hermione said as they ran. "They were right on our heels- does the house itself have a way to keep out intruders?"

"It has a few ways of dealing with them, yeah," Draco called back, "But whoever did this did their research. We need to be careful, in case-"

A stream of menacing purple light flashed, hitting the wall by Draco's head. Everyone ducked, Hermione and Harry, who were in the best position to return fire, shooting stunning spells at whoever was behind them.

They couldn't see anyone. Shit. They were using disillusionment charms, which would take care of several of the alternate protective spells the Manor carried. With the flickering lights and the dark sky outside the window, Draco couldn't make out anyone. He just saw the beams of light.

Hermione, without missing a beat, started flinging counter-spells for the disillusionment charm, and one of them hit solidly, slowly revealing a grinning man with his wand trained right on her and a spell on his lips.

Harry blocked the racing streak of purple quickly. Ginny and Draco tried to maneuver themselves to help their friends, but this particular hallway was quite narrow. Draco didn't want to risk hitting Hermione, so he had to raise himself high, throwing stun spells over her head. It definitely made him a less productive dueler.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Hermione fell forward. Was she hit!? No, he hadn't seen any of the shots hit her- Harry was keeping up some impressive protego charms. In fact, at this point that was all he was doing, since Hermione was still on the ground. Draco and Ginny used the clear shot to throw some curses towards the attackers, trying to calm the pounding in his heart that was asking why, _why_ was Hermione still on the ground!?

She wasn't still- she was moving, kicking at something….

Suddenly her wand flew out of her hand, skittering across the floor. "Ginny-" Draco yelled, hoping she would cover him as he stopped casting spells. The narrow clear hallway was like a shooting range- all of the Death Eaters had a very clear shot at them, but many still hid behind disillusionment charms.

Including whoever Hermione was grappling with.

Draco reached for her, intending to pull her to her feet or punch whoever was pining her- he couldn't risk firing an attack that might hit her. However, before his hand clamped down on her arm, she suddenly disapperated with a "crack!"

...

She kicked, and finally connected with something squishy. Or rather, someone.

"Oof," he grunted, and the nearly invisible being's weight was finally lifted off her. She scrambled to her feet, trying to make sense of her surroundings quickly and look for an escape.

Draco's room. She was only on the other side of the Manor.

She bolted for the door, but whoever her would-be captor was recovered before she made it. With a muttered spell, he flung her across the room, her body connecting with the wall hard enough to make her lose her breath.

She gasped on the floor, wondering how she had gotten caught without a wand _again_, when her attacker removed his disillusionment charm.

"You…" she managed, regaining her breath. "… son of a bitch."

Theodore Nott was staring down at her, grinning from ear to ear.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Such language from a young lady… though of course you're not a lady. You're just a tool, and once the shield charms go down I plan on using you to gain my own bit of immortality." He looked at his watch nonchalantly, leaning against the bedpost with one leg draped casually over the other. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before that fantastic bit of magic is completed. Truly brilliant. We've been planning this for months, but once we saw that the Law would be ending soon, we knew we had to hurry things along. Sadly, it seems the blood traitor and her boy toy aren't here, hmm? Ah, oh, well. The Malfoys had this coming for awhile anyways… You're just a fun little bonus!"

Hermione frowned. Nott was extremely long-winded. "Is this your first day being evil, or do you usually talk about your detailed plans with the girl who's friends are on their way to kick your ass?" The words just popped out of her mouth- she was spending too much time with Ginny.

Nott, however, completely ignored her. He was gazing out the window, and sure enough the blue of the shield was looking a little fainter… that must be why he had apparated her to the other side of the Manor. He couldn't leave unless she brought him through the shield herself. But by touching her, he was capable of apparating within the grounds. He knew way too much about the Manor's security… someone had been acting as an informant to these people.

"Did the Parkinsons help you?" she asked. If she could keep him talking, he would make a mistake, and maybe she would have a chance to head for the door again.

Nott scoffed. "We managed to… persuade them to give us some information, yes. But the fantastic spell that cracked the shields was designed by one of our more promising members. He met a woman in Azkaban who had a knack for breaking into places- taught him all about Malfoy Manor's defenses. The Malfoy's egos are too big- to think no one could figure out how to break in here…"

Hermione propelled herself forward. She pretending that she was running for the door, making Nott lunge left, and at the last minute she dodged towards the quidditch equipment, pulling open a trunk full of balls. She managed to release a bludger in the direction of the death eater, but before it could do her much good Nott cast a binding spell on her. Black rope shot out from his wand, lashing across her body and holding her uncomfortably tight. He dealt with the bludger easily enough, opening the window and directing it out with only a few cracks being pounded in the walls.

He sighed. "You're making things harder than they have to be, Granger. I was going to give you these last few torture-free minutes to make peace with whatever muggle god you chose… however, I'm out of patience, and frankly I'm getting pretty bored waiting around." He took several steps closer, and finally put one foot on either side of her bound body, standing over her. He tapped his wand, looking towards the door. "I can think of a few ways we can kill ten minutes, can't you Granger?"

He crouched down, still not settling any weight on her… just looking at her face as if he were investigating, waiting for her to say something.

She didn't give him the satisfaction of an answer, since he was obviously trying to scare her. Ten minutes sounded like enough time for her friends to find her, actually… she would just have to stay calm, and keep a cool head.

He brought his wand down, tapping the hallow of her throat with it. She gulped, fighting the urge to try and struggle backwards… she didn't want to piss him off when he had a wand at her throat. He drew the wand down lower, dragging it across the skin until he reached the top of her robes.

"Don't move," he whispered, his tone quiet but brimming with some secret amusement. It made her blood run cold, and for the first time she began to think that he might not be all talk… what exactly was he planning on doing to her while he waited to kidnap and kill her?

He muttered a variant of a severing charm, the end of his wand glowing purple as he started to draw it down her robes.

She gasped, unable to stop herself from bringing up her knees and attempting to push herself back away from Nott. His wand slipped, and she felt the searing pain of the tip tearing into the skin below her collarbone.

"Oops," he said, grinning wide and making it perfectly clear that he didn't mind his mistake. He settled his weight down on her completely, straddling her hips and stopping her struggling movements. "That's what happens when you don't do as your told, mudblood. Now, keep still so you can do the only thing you're good for…"

Shit. Why didn't Hermione realize that because Nott was capable of kidnapping and (presumably) murder meant he was capable of other deplorable acts? She took him as something of a joke, since they had gone to school together...

The hungry look he gave the flesh his wand exposed was eerily similar to the gleeful expression when he had cut her. He had torn her clothing down to her naval, cutting her slightly in two other places. None were as deep as the cut by her collar bone, though, and she could see the blood dripping down along the curves of her breasts.

She tried to distance herself from the situation, to look at it objectively and try to find a way to escape. But panic started to cloud over her brain as Nott grabbed her exposed breast, fondling it. She could feel him growing hard against her through his clothes, and thinking at all was becoming difficult… she struggled, trying in vain to pull her bound arms off of her sides. How had his severing charm not cut the ropes that bound her? She was certain that that should have been an effective counterspell to a binding spell such as this… as it was, the intact robes were cutting into her exposed flesh, and they seemed to grow tighter as she struggled under him. Some kind of dark magic she wasn't aware of, for sure.

He snickered. "Keep moving like that and I'm likely to think you're trying to turn me on." He ground down against her, and she cried out. She swore she wasn't going to let him see her scared, but to damn with her pride in this- there had to be someone nearby! Anybody!

He gave her a smug look, like he had won some game, as she yelled for help. Finally, he slapped her- hard, and she grew very silent.

"That's enough of that- no one will hear you over the sounds of my colleagues killing your friends, anyways."

He dipped a hand below the lowest cut in her robes, dragging roughly over her abdomen. "Hmm…" he muttered. "This won't do." He raised his wand, freeing her instantly from the bruising ropes encasing her body. The instant her hands were free she swung wildly at him, but he clearly had the more advantageous position. He already had her pinned, and with one large hand her grasped her wrists, holding them over her head. "I'm only going to tell you this once- you try and hit me again, and I'm going to hit you back. Or didn't you learn that last time?"

"You're a coward," Hermione hissed, a deep anger beginning to well inside her belly. If she had a wand in her hand, just then, she knew she'd be able to cast a cruciatus… or a killing curse. She wanted him dead. She had never known such hate until this horrible boy, this boy who she had gone to _school_ with, had humiliated her this way.

He chuckled, reaching down with his other hand back under the ruined fabric of her dress. He wedged her pressed legs apart with a knee as his hand drifted over her, and he touched her with his cold fingers, running them up through her folds. "A bit dry, Granger. Not that it matters much to me, but I believe this is going to hurt." He grinned his joyful 'I just cut you' grin, and Hermione closed her eyes.

That's when Nott started to scream.

...

The Death Eaters retreated further down the hall- they probably understood that the terrain wasn't to their advantage. There were only three of them, but the Death Eaters couldn't use their greater numbers to their advantage in the narrow hall.

Only three of them.

Draco licked his lips nervously, gripping Hermione's dropped wand and shoving it in his pocket as he led the way towards the dining hall. That was their family's emergency meeting place, and Draco knew it was equipped with plenty of traps and spells that could protect them from the onslaught. At least temporarily.

"Where did they take Hermione!?" Ginny yelled, Potter pushing her forward to stay in the middle of the two boys. Only Draco could lead the way through his maze-like home, and Harry didn't seem to be willing to let anyone other than himself take the dangerous back position.

"She… she couldn't be outside the Manor," Draco said, licking his lips nervously as he walked on through the darkness. 'Unless someone carried her off on a broom.' He thought, but didn't say it out loud. He was trying really, really hard not to think until they could actually _do_ something about rescuing her. They needed to get somewhere safe before they could really try and figure out where she was.

"Where we heading, Draco!?" Harry yelled as a lone Death Eater grew bold and tried flying down the hallway on a broom, only to be knocked aside by a well-placed "Stupify!"

"Dining Hall!" Draco yelled back. "Dining Hall, and then wherever Hermione is!"

They had to find her. The ring trick couldn't work twice. The thought of not finding her was too horrible to comprehend, and so he could only move on.

...

There was a thin, but absolutely terrifying figure latched firmly onto Nott's head. Hermione couldn't quite tell what it was as Nott jumped up, attempting to pry the thing away. She didn't care- she was just _glad_ it was_ hurting him_. She gathered the tatters of her robes around her the best she could, wondering if it would be safe to try and go for Nott's wand. Would the thing attacking him hurt her too?

Long fingers grasped ahold of Nott's face, gnarled overgrown fingernails cutting into his skin like claws. The fingers went straight for his eyes, and to Hermione's horror she realized exactly what- or rather who- was attacking Nott just as it stabbed it's fingers right into his widened, horrified eyes.

It was probably the single more gruesome thing she had ever seen, and that was saying something. Nott was in so much pain he dropped his wand, and she snatched it up quickly. She turned it on him. "That's enough, Yugo!" she yelled, and, a little reluctantly, the elf slipped off of Nott and landed softly on the floor.

Nott was moaning, now, fingers scraping down his own cheeks. His eyes were a bloody pulpy mess, and even though Hermione had wanted him to hurt only moments before she felt no satisfaction in watching him squirm in agony. She supposed that was a point for her.

She stunned him into unconsciousness, which she supposed was an act of mercy.

"Mistress, shall I cut off his hands, too? That would be the appropriate punishment."

Hermione stared at the old, unexpectedly ferocious house elf. He had saved her. It was positively creepy how he was capable of such a vicious physical attack, but she was of course still extremely grateful. "Er, no. I think this is enough, Yugo. Thank you for saving me…"

"Is my job, Mistress," the elf said, bowing low. "I is being good, proud elf of a long line of Malfoy house elves. I is defending Home, Masters, and Mistresses with my life, I is. Any who disgrace this house will all pay the appropriate price."

Hermione nodded, stepping over Nott's still body and walking swiftly over to the closet. She didn't ask the elf to leave as she changed into intact clothing- she was still shaking uncontrollably, and it was nice to know she had someone watching her back.

Later. She could freak out later. Right now, she had to find Draco and her friends and help them fight off the invaders.

"Yugo, take me to…" her command was interrupted, however, as she heard voices out in the hall outside the door. Familiar voices.

In the past, she would have run from those voices. As it was, she flung the door open. "Narcissa!" she cried, running down the hallway towards the older Malfoy's. Both had been walking very swiftly in the opposite direction, but on hearing her voice they swirled around on their heels, wands in hand but not pointed directly at her.

"Hermione?" Narcissa asked, an underlying tone of what could almost be mistaken for relief slipping out. "Where is Draco? Is he safe? Is he heading for the Dining Hall?"

"The last time I saw him, he was under attack…" both Malfoys stood a little straighter, panic slipping into Draco's mother's eyes, "… but he has Harry and Ginny with him, so I'm sure he's fine!"

"Potter's still here?" Lucius asked, shaking his head. "Surprising, but for the best. In a situation like this, Potter can probably be counted on to protect him."

"Harry would protect anyone," Hermione readily agreed. "Even you." The last sounded a little snippy, she knew, but she was hardly in the mood to be polite with Draco's father… this was the first time she had even _seen_ the man since he got home. She didn't care to be anything less than brutally honest with the man.

"We must assume he's headed for the Dining Hall, then," Narcissa said. She grasped Hermione's wrist, pulling her close. "Whose wand is that?" she asked, gesturing down at the ugly short oak wand in Hermione's hand.

"Nott's," she managed to croak, his name slipping past her lips like sludge. She met Narcissa's eyes, and there was another entirely new expression there… worry? Was she worried about Hermione?

"If it's not your wand, you won't be very useful in a duel." Narcissa muttered. "Stick close."

She _was_ worried about Hermione. Well, at least to the extent that she didn't want her to end up dropping dead in her hall from an enemy's curse.

Lucius gave his wife a rather puzzled frown, which she return with a stony, unreadable gaze. Narcissa wedged Hermione between herself and her husband, keeping a hand on her left wrist as if afraid she might slip away into the darkness of the shadowy Manor… at some point, the lights had all gone out completely.

"Can't we apparate to the Dining Hall?"

Lucius scoffed. "I don't expect you would have heard of Panic Rooms, but most old Wizard households have them. Once the security of the manor was compromised, no one could possible apparate there. But once you're inside, you're safe."

Hermione wanted to point out that not only had she heard of Wizard Panic Rooms, but that muggles had their own version too. She didn't think it was worth it to waste her breath, so she just muttered, "Got it."

She wondered if Yugo had followed them. He was nowhere in sight, but the house elves of Malfoy Manor had a habit of making themselves invisible at the first opportunity. It proved pretty useful during situations like this, though- she assumed that was how he had gotten the jump on Nott.

Lucius pulled up short, throwing an arm in front of his wife and, by proxy, Hermione.

"Avada Kedavra!" he yelled, and Hermione heard a soft "thump" of flesh hitting the floor following the jet of menacing green. She stared up at Lucius, wondering how he had even _seen_ the disillusioned would-be attacker, but she didn't get a chance to ask as they started running again. She assumed he had somehow charmed himself to see past a disillusionment charm, though she had never heard of such a thing being possible. She filed the information away for later research, when she could once again return to the library.

After the horror of the night, the thought of the library soothed her. She focused on it, like it were the only goal in the world she needed to aim towards. It helped her block out many of the painful thoughts her brain kept bringing to the surface.

She had to bury the pain, the humiliation, the anger… bury it until she had time to deal with it.

Suddenly, she recognized where they were- they had taken a different path than she was used to, but there were the large double doors of the dining hall… and they were now colored a dark, inky black that wavered... they seemed to almost _move_.

"Draco's already in there," Lucius muttered. Hermione assumed that's what the black indicated… perhaps it was the protection on the room, and it only activated if a Malfoy were inside? That would make sense.

Narcissa pulled on her wrist, holding her a little tighter, and Hermione followed along obediently. Instead of opening the doors, Lucius began walking directly though the darkness… like platform 9 ¾, the solid space seemed to just eat him up. The two women followed, close on his heels.

...

_A/N: A very dark out-of-the-blue chapter, I know. There's a lot of action in the next chapter too! If you squint, you might see a minor plot hole, but I hope no one cares._


	41. Chapter 41

_A/N: Hey guys, there might be a few days this week where I'm a bit late posting chapters. These later chapters have had the least editing and reviewing, so I need to take my time and make sure I didn't miss anything. Let me know if something seems out of place. _

_This is one of the longest chapters in the story. It's a nice, action-packed one. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 41: The Battle of Malfoy Manor**

"Oh my god!" Ginny screamed, and Draco whirled around away from his heavy conversation with Harry and towards the west entrance. "Hermione!"

And it was true- there she was, standing between his parents. It was like the universe had sent him a perfect packaged deal on all his silent prayers: Everyone was okay. His parents had come, and they had brought _her_ with them.

He wasn't sure if the sound that escaped him was what relief was supposed to sound like. His cry was slightly more powerful, full of all the worries and anxiety that had been building in his gut. All the "what ifs" suddenly fizzled into meaningless thoughts, and he felt lighter than he ever had before. He ran forward, heedless of his father's presence or his mother's tight grip on her wrist, and threw his arms around her. Alive, in one piece, and standing in front of him. Everything would be okay now.

Then something extremely peculiar happened. She began to cry.

He had only seen her cry- actual, real, sobbing tears- on one occasion. The day she told him she loved him. In truth, that fact seemed to put a damper on what should have been a sweet memory, but it was his own fault for walking away from her and her parents and making everything more dramatic than it had to be…

This crying was different. This wasn't complicated emotions and thoughts of unrequited love bubbling inside her over-thinking brain. This was pain.

"What happened…" he started to ask, just as Harry jogged up next to him, interrupting.

"How did you escape?" he asked, and Hermione chose to answer Harry's question instead of Draco's.

"Y… Yugo," she managed past her sobs.

"The _elf_?" Draco asked, perplexed. How did that happen? The elves were meant to protect the household in an emergency, but if someone had been trying to carry her off on a broom he didn't think a single elf could have overpowered him.

As if on cue, the house elf appeared silently, standing at Hermione's side between her and Narcissa, who had finally let go of the girl's wrist. It bowed to Draco. "I is good elf who serves as tradition."

"Er, thank you Yugo," Draco managed. He didn't particularly like thanking house elves, but in this case he could make an exception for such loyalty.

Yugo bowed to the two older Malfoys, who had both moved back a couple of places. Narcissa was eyeing Draco's arms wrapped around Hermione with a frown, but she didn't say anything. Lucius was unreadable, his grey eyes blank. "My Mistress is dirty-blood, but she is still of the family. No one touches a proud Malfoy woman and survives in only one pieces, no they do not."

Draco looked down at Hermione, trying to meet her eyes, but she was busy wiping hurriedly at them. Did she think tears made her weak? She looked angry with herself… or maybe disappointed.

"Is old rule- he looks at her, so I takeses his eyes." The elf's eyes shifted back to Hermione, looking almost bored, as if the idea of a house elf taking out a person's _eyes_ was perfectly normal, "I wanted to take his hands, too, but Mistress disapproved."

Something dark settled over Draco's vision; she had been wearing her work robes when she left them. Now her dress was deep purple. His grip on Hermione tightened, holding her head tight to his chest. He was just about to ask the question, but Harry beat him to it.

"Who?"

"Theodore Nott," Narcissa answered for both Hermione and the elf, and Draco met his mother's eyes, surprised. "We really do have some very good house elves. Rumor has it this one is from stock that had a bit of Goblin blood in them." She smiled down at the elf, and there was something cold in her smile. "I trust the boy is still alive?"

"Perhaps," the elf said with a slight tilt of his ancient bony head, bowing low before his older Mistress.

"Good. Then it's not too late to make him properly…_regret_ some of the choices he has made."

Just then there was a scream, coming from just outside the door. It was a man's voice, and it didn't end quickly- the screaming continued, and Lucius chuckled lightly. "I recognize that voice- no one told Jugson what happens when you touch a Panic Room door that isn't set to your line."

"That's why Draco made us all hold hands before coming in here," Ginny said softly. "I thought we were all just such good friends." It was meant as a joke, but it came out pretty weak. Obviously playing the comedian in such dire conditions was not her strong point.

"What happened to Jugson, then?" Harry asked, looking at Draco and not Lucius.

"The House ate him," Draco said calmly.

"A… ate him?" Ginny questioned. "Sounds like a good horror movie…"

"If they found a way through the Blue Shield, they'll find a way into the Panic Room," Narcissa pointed out to her husband. Her voice was steady and even- no trace of concern. She was just pointing out simple facts. The older Malfoy's obviously had a plan.

Lucius nodded. "Yes- we should probably leave. I'm loath to do so… once they see we're gone, they'll probably destroy the Manor. It would be such a waste, to run away from such lower Wizards." He looked grim, his eyes set on the black doorway where the screaming had come from. "Only fools would try and attack a Malfoy in his own home. I would prefer to kill them all than run."

"Yes, but think of Draco…" his mother noted, speaking about him as if he wasn't there.

"No," Hermione muttered. Her tears were miraculously gone, though her voice still sounded choked with them. "No running away," she informed Narcissa, who's eyes widened slightly. "I like that library too damn much," she said, giving Draco a weak smile. "If they have to come to us, then we should set up a trap. But first, Harry, you should contact the Aurors. Let's hand them the last of the Death Eaters so the rest of the world can move on."

Harry nodded. "I'd like to- but I'm not sure how to do that from here…"

"You can use the portkey," Draco said. "It's the emergency exit- we only have one, though. If you use it, we're trapped." He looked pointedly at Hermione. He wasn't exactly thinking straight… normally, getting the hell out of there would be his first priority. But right then, the only thing he could think of was how much he wanted Hermione to get out of there, and how bad he wanted to _hurt_ someone.

She would never leave, though. She was too tough for her own good- when she hurt, she tried to turn it into something productive. She was doing the exact same thing she had done after being tortured and nearly killed at Nott's Estate: denying anything was wrong and trying to solve other problems. Draco could only guess at what she was burying and repressing this time, but he knew better than to press the issue right then. Later. He would talk to her later, and make sure she was actually as okay as that determined set of her jaw tried to suggest.

"Ginny…" Harry started, and she glowered at him.

"No, I'm not going to go so you can stay and play hero, Harry Potter! I'm not the kind of girl who can just be sent away from trouble all the time. You did it to me during the war, you're not going to do it to me now. Besides- the Aurors will listen to you over me. If some trainee comes busting in about how _Malfoy Manor _is under attack, I think half of them will just tell me to piss off, and the other half will take their sweet time coming here." She looked to Draco. "No offense, but there's still a lot of Aurors who are not particularly pleased with the leniency your family faced in court." She turned back to Harry. "You have the authority to go boss some people around, and the credibility to be taken seriously. Now get going!"

Draco looked at his father. He still held Hermione in his arms, but it seemed that that detail was being overlooked for now. He was sure that, once the crisis was over, there was going to be a heavy price to pay for their open gesture of affection. He didn't care anymore… the stress of waiting for the gavel to fall was almost worse than just letting it happen. Hermione had been right all along.

His father gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, and Draco knew that he approved of the plan to send Harry off for help.

Draco pointed above the mantle on the grand fireplace near the west entrance. "The vase holding those geraniums? That's the portkey. It'll take you to the second mansion in Scotland. From there you can apparate."

"_Second _mansion?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding choked but relatively steady.

"Well, yeah… It's not nearly as big as the Manor, though."

"Oh, just a tiny _mansion_ then," Ginny added, before kissing her husband and waving him off towards the portkey.

Harry seemed torn, looking from his wife, to Hermione, to Draco.

"If you hurry, maybe you can bring the Aurors here before they even manage to break through," Draco said. "I'd prefer that, really. I'm not in a huge hurry to fight loads of angry Wizards." Which, on a deeper scale, was not expressly true. He hated putting himself in dangerous situations, but at the moment he would very much like to throw some curses at the people who had broken into his home, attacked his family, and hurt Hermione. He had never thought of himself as the hot-headed type, but everyone has their limits.

Harry nodded, and touched the vase. And then he was gone.

...

Pathetic. She had promised herself to stay strong- especially when she caught up with her friends. She was fine, except for a few scratches. She had even managed to quickly knit up the bigger cut on her chest with a healing charm… though she didn't imagine she did a very good job, herself.

This wasn't Draco's problem- she didn't even especially _want_ anyone to know about what happened. What almost happened. She could deal with it on her own, in her own time. At the moment, she needed to be strong for the people around her.

But then she saw him, and when he held her she had felt so suddenly safe and warm… she hadn't realized just how cold she had been, before he hugged her to his chest. It was like all those little promises she had made herself crumbled away, and she couldn't help but cry.

Dammit. And then everyone's eyes had changed, and it was like they all _knew_. She didn't want them to know. She certainly didn't need Yugo affirming anything, either, though she could forgive him since he had just saved her life. She didn't want pity, she didn't want to inspire anger and vengeance. She just wanted the problem to go away, and fade to the back of her brain where she didn't have to touch it again.

Which meant that she needed something to do to occupy her mind.

"We can turn over the table and use it for some protection, though it won't work against searing spells," she said, flashing Draco a quick smile she hoped didn't come across as too forced, remembering their duel.

"We can charm it to be," Narcissa said, nodding in approval as she started muttering and flicking spells at the heavy wooden furniture.

Hermione wasn't even sure why she was so interested in fighting for this house. Really, when it came down to it, that's what they were doing. They were fighting for the Manor, and probably a good deal for pride, too. Besides, if they ran from the Death Eaters, they would just keep coming after her. She was sick of it.

More than that, Hermione was pretty sure that the Malfoy's wouldn't stay if they were worried about the outcome of this fight. Slytherins in general were not in any way afraid to fight… if the odds were stacked heavily on their side. The older Malfoy's calm demeanor was something of a comfort- they had no doubt how this would turn out.

They were going to win. And they were probably going to kill a lot of Death Eaters in the process.

"Go stand behind the table," Lucius commanded, and the three young adults did as they were told, walking behind the table as they helped Narcissa turn it over. Lucius began cursing some of the large squares of thick grey stone on the ground, turning them black here and there. The same black as the door.

Draco crouched down behind the upturned table, turning to Ginny. "Avoid those spots," he said, "The rest of us are fine to walk on them, but I wasn't exaggerating when I said the house ate Carrow."

"Sounds like some serious Dark Magic…" Ginny muttered, and Hermione nodded.

"A branch of Dark Magic," Hermione affirmed, "though there has been debate over the years about it's legality in self-defense. Consuming Trap curse. It brings inanimate objects to life as bottomless, hungry creatures. They can be directed to avoid certain… foods, such as people with a certain surname."

"Currently, it _is_ illegal," Draco added, flashing a sardonic smile at Ginny. "But I trust you won't go turning us in to your Auror friends at the Ministry."

Ginny smirked back. "Hey, I'm not complaining- if they attack the house, it's only right that the house attacks back."

Lucius stepped back around the table with his wife, both of them lowering themselves to the same level as the three teens.

"We may not even have to fire a single curse," Narcissa muttered. "Which is really the smartest way to fight."

"But not the most fun," Hermione muttered, and Draco stared at her. Okay, she was not exactly herself at the moment… and given the worried look Ginny and Draco exchanged, her attitude was not being dismissed easily.

She didn't care. She had her own wand back from Draco, Nott's shoved into the hidden pocket of her robes. She wanted to snap it into a million pieces, but she figured it could still come in handy. For example, the Ministry might want it as evidence for his trial, or if one of them lost their wand, she would always have a spare…

Or maybe she just wanted to wait until he grew back some new eyes with a potion, snap it in front of him, and _then_ let him be hauled off to Azkaban.

She grit her teeth. It would probably be therapeutic to her to deal out some angry curses, so she almost wished the men outside the door would hurry up and figure out how to get past the spell. Waiting was almost torture, and waiting left too much time for talking.

"Hermione, are you okay?" Ginny asked quietly, scooting closer to her as they sat down behind the table.

"I'm fine," she lied, snapping a little more than she meant to.

"Er, I mean…" Ginny pointed to her own chest, just above the hemline of her robes. Where the healed cut was on Hermione.

Hermione inspected the wound for the first time since she had hurriedly healed it in the hall on the way over. It had been dark, and she had been more occupied with keeping blood from dripping everywhere than doing a pretty job. It was rather hideous- she had known the cut was deep, but she hadn't realized just how long it was... her healing had left a raised jagged scar, sharp and white against her skin.

Hermione shrugged it off. "It's okay. I healed it."

"You might have done better to wait- I don't know if you can re-heal something like that, but I'm not so bad at those kinds of spells myself. It's a bitch to try them on yourself, though."

"Well, sorry. I wasn't so much worried about a scar as I was about bleeding all over the halls," she muttered coldly. The front of the dress she had changed into even had a stain where the blood had pooled at her neckline before she had healed it. She had managed to ruin _another_ dress. "I liked the purple one…" she said quietly, not intending to be heard.

"We can buy you another one," Narcissa said, surprising Hermione. There was no trace of warmth or kindness in the woman's voice, but something in her eyes told Hermione that her words were meant to be comforting.

That's not what she wanted. She didn't want anyone, let alone her _mother-in-law_, trying to comfort her right then. No more weakness.

There was a loud "thump!" and shouting from outside, in the hallway. Hermione gripped her wand tighter, keeping her gaze straight ahead at the wall. If they were thumping, then they weren't getting sucked into the door. It meant they had figured out a way to make it solid again, and they had only minutes left.

"When the door opens, don't give them time to discover what is on the floor," Lucius said, his voice cold and commanding. "Start firing immediately, so they don't look at where they place their feet."

"Don't be weak," Narcissa said, and Hermione stared at her, wondering for a moment if she was psychic until she continued, "If you are attacking, you are attacking to win."

"What do you mean by that?" Ginny asked, sounding a little perturbed.

"She means," Lucius hissed, his own voice laced with anger that he was no doubt certain would sound intimidating, "that we're shooting to kill. If you stun an enemy, they'll come back and kill you in your sleep."

"Oh? Where did you hear a phrase like that?" Ginny challenged. "I like to think that if you stun an enemy, they'll go to Azkaban and pay back their debt to society."

Lucius sneered. "We don't always have the same definition of 'enemy,' so I disagree. So much back-talk from such a small, raggedy thing."

Ginny bristled, and looked like she was about to say something that the Malfoy's would take offense to when the door suddenly burst open.

Hermione was on her feet like a shot, her short stature making her the perfect height to just barely peek over the top edge of the table, her wand held high as she let out a red streak towards the first figure to come through the door- a man she didn't recognize, all in black.

Lucius apparently recognized him, though. "Klinebelt," he hissed, and before the man hit the ground he had sent his own jet of green to smack into the man's still form.

There was no time for Hermione to even say anything- she agreed with Ginny in her brain. Her conscience spoke to her, and she continued to send red jets out towards the approaching men, most of which bounced off of quick protego charms. She was sickened by how easily Lucius could kill these men who were, at one time, his comrades. _She_ didn't even want to _kill_ them, not really, and they were her bitter enemies.

Not in her brain, anyways.

There was something deeper than that, some primal hatred burning in her heart, that wanted blood. But she could ignore that feeling, the little voice inside that approved of Lucius' murderous attack.

Narcissa, for her part, was yelling some kind of severing spell, and as one of them hit what appeared to be a woman under billowing robes she cried out and stumbled forward… stepping right onto one of the black stones.

Her leg vanished in an instant as she dropped to the ground. She screamed, clawing until her fingers found purchase on the leg of one of her comrades. In a wild, panicked movement the man she grabbed kicked her- _hard_- in the face, stepping back as far as he could from the trap on the floor.

The woman was suddenly silent as she was dragged quickly down into the black stone. It quivered after it's meal, gyrating with a faint hum, as if pleased.

Draco had taken up his clever position from their duel- leaning around the end of the table, pressed tight to the ground. It wasn't a position that lent itself to maneuverability, but he was a harder target to hit than the rest of them when they popped up over the top of the table to fire a spell.

A shot of green flew past Ginny's ear, and she gasped, shaking a little as she ducked back down.

Draco managed to hit one man who had been getting a little too close to the table- _his_ end, even- with a full body bind jinx. The man fell, narrowly avoiding one of the black stones. Some of the Death Eaters were wearing masks, and some were not. This man had still been wearing his before he fell, but it clattered to the floor when he hit the ground.

Benjamin Greengrass, older brother of the Greengrass sisters.

That anger twisting in Hermione's gut grew sharp when she saw his face- he was the one responsible for what happened to her last time. He used her parents and her trust to attack her… he wouldn't do it again. He would go to Azkaban this time, and he would rot with the dementors.

So far, there were four black-robed bodies on the ground… and at least one _in_ the ground. Dead or unconscious, Hermione couldn't keep them all straight. But the figures kept coming- how many were there? Ten? Fifteen? There could be more waiting outside the door, too cowardly to enter the firing zone.

It was probably the bulk of the remaining Death Eaters. If they managed to round them all up here, then this would all be over.

Hermione heard shouts from the open doorway, and saw the bright flashing lights of a duel down the hall. Aurors? Had they already arrived? The barrier must have come completely down, then.

Suddenly, something occurred to her. "The Aurors!" she cried, hiding behind the table. "We have to warn them about the traps!" Lucius should have told Harry before he left… then again, Lucius probably didn't care to save a few Aurors from the same horrors the Death Eaters they now faced. As Lucius said, his definition of "enemies" was different from Ginny's.

The men remaining in the room had given up trying to blast through the table- Narcissa's charms were too clever. Instead, they had split into two groups, each trying to fight their way close enough to shoot around the open sides. If any of them were able to make it, they would be sitting ducks, especially Draco with his forward-facing pose on his side.

Hermione hoped the Aurors had brought good numbers with them, and that they would hurry.

Draco aimed at a man running up to Benjamin but missed, his curse glancing off the figure's shoulder and making him grow a rather large horn there. The man aimed at Benjamin's stiff body, freeing him just as Narcissa hit him with a charm that cut him from shoulder to hip. He fell, a bloody heap on the ground.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion for a minute. Hermione saw Draco throw a spell forward, his lightning spreading out and hitting two men near the back of the room, but lacking the accuracy to hit the man a few yards in front of him. Benjamin, on his knees, raised his own wand and let a red spell fly.

Hermione wasn't sure what it was, but as it smacked right into Draco's outstretched wand arm she let out a terrified cry. She stood, not even bothering to look at the other people in the room and see if they were gunning for her, and turned her wand on Benjamin. He almost looked surprised at the speed of her spell as he tried to block it, the green crackle smacking into his chest and sending him flying backwards.

He didn't move again.

Hermione had a brief, horrible moment where her brain almost began to process what she had just done, when she heard Draco screaming. His mother had already pulled him back from the edge of the table to relative safety, but it was clear that he was injured pretty badly, his arm a mass of blood. He was holding it up in the air, like the thought of it touching the ground was just too much.

Hermione crawled over. "What was it?"

Narcissa's eyes didn't move from her son. She had her wand out, and was mumbling a few basic healing spells… but they weren't doing anything to stop the bleeding. Hermione wasn't even sure where the bleeding was coming from- his whole right arm seemed to be pouring blood. "Cutistollere," Narcissa answered sharply. "It took off his skin."

Hermione felt all the blood leave her face. It sounded like the kind of spell you would find in "Secrets of the Darkest Art." In fact...she was fairly certain the passage on that spell hadn't been edited in the fake book, so that's probably exactly where Greengrass had learned it. Did Narcissa have a copy of the fake book, too? Possibly. It wasn't hard to get ahold of.

The problem with this spell, Hermione knew, was that it couldn't just be healed instantly. That was the point with most Dark Magic- the intention was to make the victim suffer.

"We have to get him a Pellem Incrementa potion- to grow back skin. It's fairly rare, though, and our potion stocks are low..."

"No, they're not," Hermione informed her. "I just brewed that particular potion last month, as a matter of fact." Draco was going to be okay. She just had to... make it across a house full of people who wanted to torture and kill her. Dammit. "Once we get out of this, we'll go get it... it'll take a while to work, and he'll be in for a rough night, but he'll make it," she said, more to herself.

"Hermione!" Ginny called, ducking just as twin green streaks shot over her head. "On the right!"

Hermione peaked up over the table quickly. Dodging around the black bricks were three remaining men- two coming around the left, where Lucius and Ginny were shooting rapidly. Every time one of them raised their head, their two opponents would shoot- Ginny couldn't get a clear shot in.

The other one was coming around the right, where Draco had been positioned a moment before. She gave Draco a quick squeeze on his uninjured shoulder, not sure if he even was conscious of his surroundings as he mumbled nonsensically in pain, before taking up his position.

There was a lot of sticky blood on the floor there, and she fought back revulsion as she knelt in it and shot a "Sectemsempra" around the corner. She completely missed, and now the man was frighteningly close. He fired, and her hand slipped on blood in her hurry to duck back behind the table. The shot hit the table at an angle, chipping off a chunk and hitting the wall behind Ginny.

And now, as she looked up again, he was facing her head on, the table no longer standing between them. She stood and managed to block his curse an instant before it would have slammed into her face, flicking her wand delicately to follow it up with a stun. He blocked it, and their duel began in earnest.

She had no choice now but to move out into the open, trying to force her opponent back as they dueled in earnest. No more hiding, no more safety net. The one thing she had to her advantage was that she didn't need to avoid the traps... she hoped. It still made her a little nervous, but as she dueled she placed a foot purposefully on the black square nearest her. She was still alive. She smirked, hoping her opponent was properly intimidated.

One of the men towards the other side of the room came towards them, raising his wand to Hermione as he carefully avoided the black squares on the floor. She wasn't sure she could handle two on one- it was all she could do to fight off her current opponent's attacks.

Ginny's voice rang out, her jellylegs jinx hitting home. The man wavered, and though Hermione didn't dare take her eyes off the man she was trading frantic attacks with, the other man's scream man it clear that he had fallen into one of the traps.

Before the screaming started, however, the last unoccupied Death Eater in the room answered Ginny's attack, shooting a killing curse that Hermione hoped missed... Ginny was never the fastest at blocking attacks.

"Protego- Avada kedavra!" Lucius called smoothly, blocking the man's attack and easily turning it back on him. Lucius had extremely good aim, it seemed- the man fell dead.

Now it was just Hermione and the increasingly panicked man she faced. Ginny ran forward quickly, jumping to Hermione's side without a thought. Both girls made short work of him- Hermione cast a stun spell that he dodged, putting him off balance, and Ginny sent a stinging hex into his legs, tilting him over. He fell right on a black spot, and Ginny's nose wrinkled in disgust as the man was nearly broken in half by the suction of the trap.

Suddenly, Ginny stiffened, staring down at her own feet.

Her right foot was maybe an inch away from one of the black squares. She gulped. "I, uh... I didn't even think. I just acted... wow, that was close."

"You weren't watching where you were running!?" Hermione asked, positively furious. Ginny could have died, right by her side, for such a stupid reason!

"Er... no," Ginny said sheepishly, eyes darting to the door. "But we heard the Aurors dueling! They might be on their way- we need to warn them..."

"Ginny! Hermione!" a voice cut across the wide room, littered with bodies.

"Harry!" both girl said at the exact same time, hands outstretched as if they could stop him with their minds.

"Stop!" Ginny yelled. 'Don't move a muscle!"

"Why?" he asked, taking a step into the room.

Hermione reacted quickly. "Stupify!" she called, her spell hitting her unsuspecting friend full in the chest and knocking him all the way out the doors and into the back of the hall beyond.

Ginny's jaw fell, and she gave Hermione a disbelieving look. "Did you just stun Harry Potter?"

"I did, and he's damn lucky he's got such a good friend to do it." Hermione ran back behind the table while Ginny carefully started making her way towards Harry. She saw Narcissa next to Draco. She had removed her over-robe, bundling it up and placing it beneath Draco's raw bloody arm. Hermione gulped- it didn't seem to be much more of a comfort than resting it on the floor, by the way it was twitching and Draco was moaning. His eyes were rolling around, and it was clear the pain was great enough to render him incoherent but not enough to give him the relief of unconsciousness.

"I'm going to the Potions room- I'll be back quickly," she said, as Lucius kneeled down next to his wife and son. "Stay here, and be careful when the Aurors come in- they're going to want an explanation for all the bodies. Don't provoke them."

"We don't need advice from _you,_" Lucius snapped. "I know how to handle Ministry peons."

Hermione clamped her mouth shut. He was obviously stressed, looking down at his son with concern clear in his eyes. Plus, he _did_ save her friend's life moments before... she gave him a pass. He could be as much of an asshole as he wanted, for now.

She ran across the room, passing Ginny and making it to Harry first. Ginny sighed heavily, working around the traps like it was a sick, twisted game of hopscotch.

Harry groaned, rubbing his neck and he stood up off the floor. "Merlin, Hermione... you pack a punch. Do I get an explanation for why I'm dizzy on the floor?"

"Traps," Hermione said, pointing to the black spots on the floor in front of them. "You step on them, and the house eats you."

"Draco was serious about that?"

"Yes, he was, and on that note he's injured. I'm going to the Potion's room- keep the Aurors out of there until Lucius has a chance to dispell the traps."

"I'll try."

Hermione nodded, and, now standing clear of the dining room, apparated to the Potions lab.

She rushed to the well-stocked shelf, eyes skimming over the alphabetized labels. She grabbed the potion for Draco's skin, one for the pain, and one for sleeping. She paused, frowning slightly at the bottles as she thought hard about the individual ingredients and how they interacted with one another. It should be safe to mix these Potions, unlike Skele-grow, which couldn't be used with any pain-killing potions.

She was about to pop back over to the dining hall when she thought of one last minute thing... she headed for the supply closet, and sure enough there was some gauze stored away- mostly for wrapping dead rats for potion ingredients. They would have to wrap Draco's arm while the skin grew back for him to have some measure of comfort, and to make sure he doesn't get further injuries on the sensitive skin.

She took a deep breath- it was like something was gripping her heart and squeezing while she watched him in so much pain, and she steeled herself to face him again. Now she could do something to help. She would never make it as a healer, though- she was good in an emergency, but if she had to face people in such pain every day she would lose her mind. She couldn't help but sympathize, envisioning what it would be like to have your skin peeled off... she shuddered. Don't think, just act.

She made her way quickly back to the Dining Hall.

The place was full of Aurors, all carefully standing away from the black squares with their wands out and pointed directly at Lucius, who had moved from behind the table. Hermione looked to Harry. "What's going on?" she asked, startling several of the tense Aurors, who whirled on her.

"Well... I suppose everyone's just a little on edge," Harry said carefully by way of answer, eyes shifting around the room.

"What we're wondering," began one girl on Harry's left- Hermione thought she remembered her from Nott's Estate, but couldn't be sure... she had been very out of it at the time- "is why there are such an unusually high number of bodies and illegal Consuming Traps lying around."

Hermione did not give her the answer she was probably looking for. She scoffed, looking disgusted. "This coming from someone who was too late to save us. The only reason the five of us are alive is because we're so damn good at protecting _ourselves_." She looked to Lucius and nodded. "Send him a fine or whatever for the traps, but they saved us. This whole conversation is pointless- I have more important things to do," she said, walking easily over the black Consuming Traps towards the table, where she knew Draco and his mother were still waiting. She could hear his heavy breathing, thick with pain, even from halfway across the room.

"Hey! Hold it! Don't just go running across a crime scene!" the angry voice called from behind her, followed closely by Harry's voice, low and dangerous.

"Don't you _dare_ point a wand at my friend," he said, and though Hermione didn't look back to find out what happened, no one tried to stop her from crossing the room again.

She knelt down next to Draco, handing the three potion bottles to his mother. Draco's breathing was erratic, but his eyes were open to slits and no longer so glassy or rolling. He seemed to be pretty lucid, which was in no way a good thing. She wanted him out cold so he wouldn't have to suffer in such pain- she never wanted to see him like this. If she could have taken his place, she would have easily. As she had thought before, Draco seemed to have a very low pain-tolerance.

"We can give him the Pellem Incrementa first, and you can follow it with the Dolorserum for the pain. We can't give him the Sleeping Draught for at least an hour, though, since the ingredients in the Pellem initially have a high acidity which can cause side affects when mixed with any potion containing flobberworm mucus."

Narcissa stared at her a moment, the began uncorking the bottled. Holding Draco's head up as she poured the potions down his throat. "You seem to know what you're talking about."

"I've been reading a lot of Potion books lately," Hermione said with a shrug, holding onto the gauze. She didn't want to start wrapping the arm until the pain potion took effect- it was going to hurt.

Draco's eyes drifted towards her, still only open to slits. She tried to give him a comforting smile, when really she just felt all twisted up inside. His arm… it looked like so much meat. She couldn't even imagine how hurt he was.

Just as she was thinking this he sighed, his eyes drifting closed. His lips parted, his voice very quietly and raspy from screaming. "Thanks," he mumbled. The Potion must have started to take affect.

Hermione looked up at Narcissa. "Can you levitate his arm… I think we should wrap it before we try to move him."

Narcissa licked her lips, looking nervous, but nodded. Obviously this was going to ruin whatever pain relief Draco was feeling- there were limits to the potion. But it had to be done. Narcissa raised her wand, floating Draco's arm off the pile of cloth and into the air.

Draco hissed as his arm left the fabric, the blood that Narcissa had managed to slow coming faster from his underarm where the muscle had stuck to the robe. "Blood replenishing potion…" Hermione muttered. "I forgot. I'll get that one a little later." She slowly began to wrap the gauze around the arm, starting at the top and working her way down. The first potion was already taking affect- she could tell that the muscle looked a little less red, and she hoped that under that mess of blood there was skin starting to grow back.

The first layer of gauze was soaked through right away, but she continued to wrap, trying to be as gentle as she could. Draco kept wincing, and at one point, when Hermione's finger accidentally tapped against his wrapped wrist, he whimpered, his eyes closed so tight wrinkles formed between them. Hermione tried to steady the shaking of her hands… she hated hurting him. "I'm sorry," she whispered, finally managing to tape off the end of the wrap as Narcissa lowered his arm beside him once again.

"You should take him to a guest room- I'll help deal with the Aurors," Hermione said, noticing for the first time that there was an awful lot of yelling going on in front of the table. Narcissa was probably not the type who enjoyed receiving orders, but with one look at Draco she readily agreed, levitating him out around the table.

"…it's not about fines, these things could have killed people! And by that, I mean they probably did!" the blond girl was yelling at Harry. She turned to Lucius. "There are bodies all over this man's home…"

"Death Eater bodies," Harry said. "If we had gotten here quicker, do you think there would have been less of them? I'd rather see these dead bodies than my wife's, thank you."

The woman paled at that, looking at Ginny, who was standing beside Harry with her arms crossed. "Lucius saved my life at one point tonight- don't get me wrong, I'm sure it was a very calculated move and not out of the goodness of his heart. Still… without him, we would all be dead."

"I don't see why you're all still arguing," Hermione said, watching as Narcissa brought Draco past the Aurors out of the room. The blond woman looked like she was going to say something, but a look at Harry's furious face quieted her. Hermione wanted to walk up to her friends, but the posture in the room was very aggressive. Everyone's bodies were angled towards Lucius, wands either drawn or gripped tightly. Lucius made up the center of the room, and he stood there so calmly- like it didn't bother him at all. Hermione stood near him- not next to him, but near enough that she could have everyone's attention.

"If you're honestly going to charge someone for murder when defending their home, then you'll have to charge me too. I personally killed one of these men." She looked around, and finally pointed to the crumpled heap that was Benjamin. Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw his still body…_she_ did that. He would never breathe again, because of her. She took a steadying breath and continued. "Him. I killed him, after he flayed my husband. And as horrible as I feel, I would do it again in a heartbeat. Because if I had given him another moment, he would have killed Draco. You have a lot of reasons to hate Lucius Malfoy, and I know plenty of you are looking for reasons to put him back in Azkaban, but if you actually find fault with what he did here tonight then you'll have to arrest me too. If defending your loved ones is a crime, then I guess I belong in Azkaban."

There was a lot of muttering, and Hermione didn't kid herself- these people knew who she was. Not only was her best friend an Auror and the savior of the Wizarding world, but she was a fairly well known war hero herself. No one wanted to try and put any blame on her.

And she knew a thing or two about Wizarding Law. Well, mostly she knew about marriage laws, but she knew enough that if you were attacked by Death Eaters and defended yourself, you couldn't be prosecuted. Even if you used an unforgivable to do so. Right?

She hoped she was right, because if not she had just confessed to murder.


	42. Chapter 42

_A/N: Aaaaand... this is one of the shortest._

_Thanks everyone for the reviews! All the new readers and the regulars- **HG4eva, GTH, ladymagma, lighterised2801,BlueLuver5000, Kou Shun'u, LCB** (thanks for reviewing each chapter individually!), **Calimocho**, and, um... am I missing anyone? Probably. You know who you are! Thank you all! I can't believe we've reached the 400 mark! That makes this my highest rated fic yet in almost every category (does anyone else look at their stats obsessively? Not just me, right? It's like a game sometimes lol)_

_**Shealone**: I love reading your play-by-play reviews! XD Your reactions make me feel good about my writing! Sometimes I wonder if my jokes are as funny to everyone else as they are to me. I just sit here, writing and giggling to myself while my fiance thinks I'm crazy.  
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_Rest assured, everyone asking, that there will be lots of the older Malfoys in coming chapters. We have eight chapters left for all the questions to be answered! I hope I do so successfully! _

**Chapter 42: The Reassuring Light of Day**

It took roughly four hours for everything to be sorted out. The Aurors had to file separate incident reports for each Death Eater, and interviewed both her and Lucius about Every. Single. One.

Yugo showed them to several others around the house, including the blind and barely alive Nott in Draco's room. That was one story she did not give the full truth on, simply stating that the house elf protected its home the best way it knew how. She figured she might have to give more details later, if she got called in for his trial… but she was so exhausted, she didn't even want to think about it.

Harry and Ginny hugged her as they rushed to get the Aurors out of the house. She got an apologetic look from Harry as he did so. "Sorry about this- everyone's a little frustrated about the short sentence Lucius got in the first place."

"I think secretly they're mad-jealous that we managed to take down the criminals they'd been hunting down for the past year in one afternoon," Ginny said, and Hermione quietly agreed.

Lucius began dispelling the traps around the dining hall, and Hermione walked silently away from the man. He hadn't said a word to her, even after she had technically defended him, but she didn't expect anything else. "Yugo?" she asked, and the elf appeared instantly.

"Yes, mistress?"

"Where is Draco?"

"The young master is being in his bedroom."

"I… I thought I told Narcissa to use a guest room."

"Yes, but mistress asked me to move the garbage that was being in master Draco's room so he could sleeps more comfortably in his own bed." So Yugo had moved Nott before taking the Aurors to him. Still, Hermione wasn't exactly pleased… she didn't want to go back to _that_ room just yet.

She sighed. She had to see Draco, so that's where she headed, walking swiftly though the halls. The sky had lightened up, the magical storm dissipated and the sun shining through the windows she passed. It was like the last few hours were just a nightmare, and the reassuring light of day had arrived to wash it all away.

Inside, she still felt very dark.

Narcissa was seated in a chair pulled close to the bed, watching her son sleep. She turned as Hermione entered the room. "I had an elf bring a blood replenishing potion already, so don't worry about it," she said, and Hermione nodded. She had completely forgotten amid all the commotion.

"How is he?"

Narcissa's eyes were hooded, her hands shaky in her lap. "He's been sleeping for awhile now- I gave him the draught an hour after, like you said." She watched Hermione carefully, considering. "You defended him and healed him. If our situations were different, I would say that you would make a great wife for my son."

"Our situations are exactly that," Hermione said quietly, conjuring her own chair. "You can think as little of my blood-status as you want- to Draco it no longer matters. And Draco's opinion is all I care about when it comes to our relationship."

Narcissa looked very tired, and suddenly she seemed about ten years older. She let out a little sigh, her head bobbing in a miniscule nod. "I know. And you should know that Lucius has enough tact to wait until things have settled down before he will bring up issue with it. You might not care about anyone else's opinions, but Lucius' is one opinion that will have a huge impact on your life, one way or another. Just… try not to be so snippy when you speak with him, okay?"

Hermione nodded. She could agree to _try_.

Narcissa stood up slowly, walking around the room. She stopped, and pulled something black from a drawer at a writing desk in the corner. They were the robes Hermione had been wearing that morning, torn up to shreds. "I found this on the floor- I hid it, in case my son were to wake up and start focusing on his surroundings."

Hermione froze. She should have burned the robes, or at least hid them. She certainly didn't want Narcissa to find them, and to start asking questions. Hermione stood up, walking over to the woman and grabbing the heap of fabric, jerking it out of Narcissa's hands. "It's none of your business anyways- don't pretend to care."

Narcissa stared at her for just a moment longer than was comfortable, and Hermione found herself looking down at the floor. Her hands were shaking around the torn garment, and she squeezed, willing them to be still.

Narcissa's voice was very quiet when she spoke next. "In the old days, in proper Wizard households, such things were not tolerated. A year and a half ago, when my home was full of Death Eaters who no longer respected or even feared our family name, do you not think I was frightened? Men who once prided themselves on their decorum and social skills were reduced to murders, torturers, and often, rapists. Violence begets violence, and that's all many of the weaker men working for the Dark Lord understood. No one would dare touch a strong woman in good standing with the Dark Lord, like Bella… but for me, it was a rather risky situation. I was never a Death Eater, I didn't help with missions, but I was still stuck here because of my family. Because this was _my_ house."

Because it was their choice. Her family's choice, to associate with such people. Hermione scowled.

"One day, I was cornered by Klinebelt in a way that was… inappropriate. Let's just say that it was only moments before my husband found me and came to my aid… I think he would have murdered Klinebelt, if it wouldn't have gotten us killed for infighting. The Dark Lord was very particular about his followers, or more specifically his less favored followers, killing his higher ranking ones."

Hermione stared. Was she trying to empathize, to say "I've been there" in the most straight forward way possible? Hermione didn't like it. She didn't need this, especially from Narcissa Malfoy.

"In the end, I was scared, and I was embarrassed that I was scared. But it wasn't just for me- my whole family was in danger, and there were people who wanted to hurt us living in our own home. We had to tread very, very carefully near the end. I never left Lucius' side, and I kept Draco near us whenever possible."

"Yes, well, you made a choice," Hermione snapped, feeling especially waspish without really being able to pinpoint the reason. Who did she think she was? Narcissa was _nothing_ like Hermione.

"Yes. We made a choice," she said, a hand to her forehead, her eyes fluttering closed. "Lucius joined because of his _ideals_, not because he enjoyed hurting people, and back when I was young I approved. I had no idea what all people were really capable of, back then. The war changed people- only men who had families who loved them seemed to be able to remain true to themselves."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, thinking. She had had a couple run-ins with Lucius during the war, and if Narcissa considered him "unchanged" by that point then Hermione figured the young Lucius was probably an egomaniacal asshole, too. Then again, perhaps that's a testament to how bad things were with some of the other Death Eaters. If Lucius was the _gentle_ Death Eater, then what were men like Klinebelt and Nott Sr. like? She had some idea.

"His ideals," she finally said. "So, the ideals that declared people like me should have their wands snapped. That muggles were lesser beings… you know what Nott said to me? He said that _that's_ all that a muggle-born like me is good for. That's what he said before he…" She bit her tongue. She was getting angry, but there was a point where her anger would reach a peak that it would turn into tears. She didn't want that.

Narcissa, the woman of many masks, tall proud posture, and a calm, calculating disposition suddenly seemed to melt. She let out a breath, and it was like her whole body just fell a couple inches.

Hermione glared up at the taller woman.

"In the end, Hermione, there are many things we'll never agree on. I believe we are both very firm on one thing, though: I don't want my family hurt. All I wanted, since I was a young girl at Hogwarts, was to build a happy home with a strong family. During the final days, when I saw Draco crucioed, I decided that I would fight the monster responsible in any small way I could, even if it cost me my life. Then the monster sent my son, and other sons, into Hogwarts to die. That's all it was- he knew Draco had no chance of catching Potter. Draco didn't _want_ to catch Potter, because while Draco had his father's ambition, he never had his willingness to do whatever _had_ to be done, no matter how horrible. In a way, that made Draco the stronger of the two, I suppose."

Hermione processed all that Narcissa had said very slowly. "Draco was tortured?" she asked. The news wasn't surprising, but she had never really thought about it… and of course Draco had never really mentioned it. He hadn't talked about much of anything from that hellish year, and he still had large gaps in his knowledge of her own adventures, too.

"I guess you can relate though, hmm?" Narcissa asked softly. She had been there when Hermione had been tortured by her sister. Watching. If Narcissa was so appalled by the violence in her home back then, she certainly hadn't made it known. "I'm going to go find Lucius… will you stay with Draco? Let me know if he needs anything?"

Hermione blinked. Narcissa was becoming harder and harder to read, so she decided to stop trying. She nodded, watching as Narcissa left the room, stealing nervous glances at her son until she walked out the open door.

Hermione sat down in the chair she had conjured next to Draco.

"Wrong arm," he said, and Hermione almost jumped out of her seat.

"Y… you're awake?"

"Apparently," he muttered, blinking rapidly as he opened his eyes. He groaned, staring at the canopy above him.

"What do you mean, 'wrong arm?'".

"I mean, the spell hit my wand arm. If it had hit the left, it might have been enough to take off the Dark Mark."

Hermione grimaced. "Perhaps… though it's not a theory anyone would want to test."

"No, not on purpose. Wouldn't have been such a bad thing given the circumstances, though…" He sounded very weak, and his head lolled to the side heavily to look at her. The blood loss and pain had taken a lot out of him, though if he was talking about such nonsense then he must be feeling better. "Who knows. The damn thing could go straight to the bone and just seep back up once I'm healed. I've never heard of anyone removing it before, afterall."

"Hmm…" What a strange topic for him to think of in his current state. Had he been lying there for a while, thinking of this?

Had he been lying there awake while she talked to Narcissa? She really hoped not. There was no part of that conversation he needed to hear.

"Do you think my arm will look weird, when it's healed?"

Hermione stared at him. Unlike muggle pain killers, healing potions shouldn't produce any delirious effects, but if she didn't know better she might have thought Draco was drugged. Possibly it was just the pain affecting his thought-process. "Well… usually, the new skin comes out a little pale, but with you I don't think that'll be a problem."

Draco laughed, and then started to cough weakly. Hermione conjured a glass and filled it with water quickly. "Here," she said. "And don't talk so much- your body's weak. You need to rest."

He drank some water, using his other arm to support himself while Hermione held the glass. She set the glass on the bedside table. "What, a guy can't make polite conversation after nearly getting toasted by his dad's old work friends?"

"Er…"

"How long before the potion's finished with me? These bandages don't exactly feel like a bed of rose petals, but my arm doesn't hurt as bad… in fact, it itches like crazy."

"Yeah, well don't scratch it. It's going to get much worse."

"How comforting."

"I wasn't trying to be comforting- I was trying to give you a warning. If you scratch, the new skin will fall off and we'll have to start all over again."

"Yuck."

"Yeah."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes closed, and Hermione almost thought he had fallen back asleep. Once again, she was a little startled when he kept talking.

"Are you going to stay here and take care of me the whole time?"

"Your mother was just here…"

"I know. But that's not what I asked.

He knows. Merlin. "Yes, Draco. I'll stay here until you get better. Did you hit your head when you fell?"

He grinned. "No, I just thought you'd rather have a pleasant conversation for a change of pace today."

"And talking about your Dark Mark, how your arm looks, and its level of scratchiness is considered pleasant conversation?"

"Relatively."

She took a breath, started to speak, then stopped. If he did overhear things between his mother and her, then Hermione was grateful for the current topic. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," he said, and his cheerful tone wavered a little. "I don't think I can keep pretending everything's fine in the morning, when I'm better. But for now I'm stuck here, and I don't want you to leave."

Hermione frowned. "I won't leave."

"You'd leave if I said what was on my mind. You're defensive and hostile at the moment, you know." She was tempted to get angry at that, but realized it would prove his point. Instead, she let him continue. "Hey, don't you want to know why I'm awake, even though my mother gave me that sleeping draught?"

Hermione sighed, feeling defeated. "Yes, I do."

"Well, actually, I've built up an immunity to them. Usually don't last for more than a couple hours, which is enough to get one to fall asleep on their own."

"Immunity? Didn't I tell you once that you can become addicted to sleeping draughts!? When did you use them enough….?"

"Sixth year. Wasn't sleeping much, then. I was too scared to sleep… Madam Pomfrey stopped giving them to me, so I had to order them myself by owl. And yes, I did get addicted to them for a while. Took a long time to be able to fall asleep on my own again."

Hermione stared. "So, you were a Death Eater, a jerk, _and_ a potion abuser that year? Talk about a bad-boy image."

"Well, I'm pretty sure crying in the girl's bathroom cancels out any coolness that could abstractly be associated with my 'bad boy' image, but thanks."

She laughed, and couldn't believe how foreign the sound was to her ears.

"You remember our family physician? She can get rid of set-in scars. She's brilliant," Draco commented casually. "Which is why my chest is such cut-marble perfection instead of full of "Harry can be as much of an asshole as me" scars."

Hermione laughed again, the sound becoming louder and more genuine. "Well, she's worth keeping around then, I guess. Even though she wasn't able to save me from sleeping with you and your…_chest of cut-marble perfection_. What does that even mean? You're so weird!"

He _was_ weird, but that was exactly what she needed.

...

At some point in the night she fell asleep on the chair, woke up, realized there was a bed right next to her, and crawled onto the other side. She kept her distance from Draco- she didn't want to risk bumping his arm, even though it was on the far side of the bed.

When she woke up early the next morning, she was facing Draco. His breathing was even, and he was sleeping with his injured arm draped over his chest. He had moved it, which she took as a good sign. He was still wearing the same robes as yesterday, as was she, but his robe had been cleaned with a spell. No spell could fully get dried blood out of robes, but it was very faint. Unlike her own dress, which still looked a little gruesome.

She closed her eyes. She could sleep in- she would owl work again today. She wasn't going anywhere this soon…

She heard someone clear their throat, and her eyes flew open.

She sat up hurriedly, the blood draining from her face as she saw who was sitting in her unoccupied bedside chair.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting by his son, his eyebrows raised in entirely mock surprise and his mouth set in a deep frown. There was something a little dangerous in his eyes as he stared her down, and she remembered that he had no idea she usually slept in this room anyways.

"I think," he said, his voice quiet so as not to wake Draco but cold enough to send a shiver down her spine, "that it's time we had a talk."


	43. Chapter 43

_A/N: So, I did say chapters might be a bit late for the duration of this fic. I'm thinking every other day from here on. I really feel like there's a lot of work to do on the next few chapters (maybe it's because I've been reading a few other amazing fics and feel super self conscious now lol)._

**Chapter 43: The Generous Offer**

"Narcissa likes you."

"Pardon?"

Somehow, for some unknown reason in the back of her sleepy, shocked-dumb mind, she had followed Lucius when he had said they needed to talk. She was now sitting in a red leather high-backed chair that creaked when she moved, across from Lucius, who was sitting at his large imposing desk. He chuckled at her answer, but the laughter was condescending and lacking real humor.

"Trust me. This is insurmountably more shocking of a discovery for me than it could possibly be for you. She's a good actress when she needs to be, but in truth she doesn't like most people. Especially people like _you_, but I can tell this is a rare exception."

"Now, do you mean muggle-borns, or muggle-borns who are smarter than you?"

Lucius' smile was stretched thin. "Careful," he said simply, and Hermione decided to reel it in a little. She remembered what Narcissa had said… Hermione said she would try to be less snippy. Which meant less honest, as far as she was concerned.

"Look, I think you have the wrong idea with your overall premise here- Narcissa hates me about as much as you do. She's just gotten _used_ to me."

"Oh, I don't hate you. That would require effort." His false humor died quickly, his palms falling flat on the desk in front of him. "I don't think of you at all, which was really the best situation possible. I don't care if there are bugs in the garden, but when they move into the house… then I have a problem. Miss Granger, do we have a problem?"

Hermione glowered, trying to remember why she had decided to hold her tongue. "I don't know what you expect me to say. And it's not Miss Granger anymore, as you well know. That was partly your idea, you'll remember."

Lucius paused, considering. "Yes, Narcissa mentioned this as well. It is our fault that Draco was put in such an… awkward position. That's why I'm prepared to play nice."

"And what does that consist of?"

"Well, for one…" Lucius started, his eyes glinting dangerously. "… that means not threatening you…" his gaze shifted over to a shelf, where that damn metal lie-box was sitting. She thought she spied a bit of longing in his eyes, but he shook it off and turned back to her. "…you seem to have parroted how to use a wand well enough, so coercion would probably be met with that temper I've heard about."

Temper? He had yet to _see_ the full blunt of her temper… besides, compared to Ron or Harry, she was hardly the most hot-headed person she knew! It just so happened that the Malfoy's had a knack for pissing her off. "So, playing nice doesn't include avoiding insults," she muttered.

"Insults? Did I say something insulting? I've only spoken the truth."

She pressed her lips together, remaining silent with great effort. From the moment she entered the room, she had kept a tight grip on her wand in her pocket. Despite his assurances, she did not loosen her grip in the slightest.

"So, I've decided that there's only one reasonable and simple solution to this problem," Lucius continued. He reached into his desk.

Hermione let her wand slip silently out of her pocket, holding it lower than the desk so it couldn't be seen.

Lucius threw something bulky onto the desk, close to her. It was a bag, and when it landed, it made a heavy metallic clanking sound. It was clearly a bag of gold, but it didn't make a sound like sparse coins clinking together- the purse was bulging, and almost _solid_ it was packed so full.

Hermione stared at it. "So, you want…"

"We have perhaps a month until the end of the Marriage Law. I want you to stay away from my son."

"I see." She picked up the bag, weighing it in her hand. "And this is… what? A hundred galleons?"

"A hundred and twenty." Lucius said, his voice almost amiable as she held the bag.

"One hundred and twenty… sounds like you think I'm cheap."

Lucius let out a sharp, frustrated noise that was caught somewhere between a growl and a huff. "Every year."

"Forever?"

"For life."

Why is it that when he phrased it that way, it sounded like a threat?

She started to laugh, then, setting the bag down on the desk. "Oh, I'm worth quite a lot to you, huh? Or rather, not ever seeing me again is worth quite a lot. That's more than some witches make in _five_ years."

"So, you'll accept? I'll require an unbreakable to ensure you'll keep your word…"

"Oh! Sorry, did I give you the wrong idea? No, no, no…you obviously don't know the first thing about me. Even if I wasn't in love with Draco- which, I am, by the way- I still wouldn't accept just based on _principle_. I can't be bought, by anyone, for _any_ reason. I respond more to respect for my intelligence and logic, and you've shown that you're incapable of either when it comes to me. If you want to speak to someone, try your son. Isn't what he wants most important?"

Lucius was deadly quiet, the ticking of an old grandfather clock behind the desk becoming maddeningly loud to her perception. She still had her wand ready, and she was becoming increasingly worried she would have to use it. If she dueled Draco's father, what then? She wouldn't be able to stay at this house anymore, but if she wanted to she could file a complaint with the ministry. If Lucius attacked her, he'd be back in Azkaban faster than he could try to pay her off.

"Very well," Lucius said, much too calmly. "You may go."

Hermione hesitated, wondering if it really would be that easy. She stood, walking towards the door, making no attempt to hide the fact that she had her wand out and ready.

Lucius didn't say another word.

...

Draco stared up at the beige canopy above his bed. He was in a foul mood, and it was only getting worse.

Don't scratch.

Don't scratch.

Don't scratch.

"Draco?"

"What!?" he snapped, eyes shifting to the side of his bed where Hermione was standing, a stack of books in her arms. She set them on the table and frowned.

"Did you exchange personalities again since last night? Trying to imitate a cobra now, instead of a chatty squirrel?"

What did she even mean by that!? God, he was so uncomfortable! His arm no longer hurt, but he was certain the itching would drive him to the brink of insanity! "Great, call me names. That'll really improve my mood," he mumbled, fidgeting under his bed sheets.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "You'll be alright by tonight, I promise. Just try not to bite my head off…"

"Can we at least take off the damn bandages? Every time I move they brush something and the itching is worse."

Hermione seemed to think, her head cocked to the side. She chewed on her lower lip as she thought, which Draco usually would have found cute but instead found completely annoying.

"Well!?"

"You don't have to yell."

"I'm not yelling!" he yelled, scratching at his head in frustration with his good arm. It almost helped the prickles in his arm, if only in a psychological way.

"We should be able to take them off now. Just remember- don't scratch."

"Hermione, if you even say that word one more time I'm going to take my chances."

She sighed, shaking her head as she reached for the top layer of bandages on his arm. She had changed them once in the morning, after disappearing to go god-knows-where for a long period. He had had a very disturbing view of his arm, the skin grown but still translucent.

She unwound the bandages, and Draco felt open air on his new skin. he thought it might help with the itching… he was wrong.

"Gahr!" he growled in frustration, shifting around like a child throwing a tantrum. It was maddening!

Hermione laughed, and he gave her a glowering stare, making his disapproval known. Her laugh cut off abruptly, but she still had a stupid little smile on her face. "I'll give you a pass on your bitchiness just this once, but only because in retrospect I'll find it a funny story to remind you of."

His frown deepened.

Hermione sat down next to the bed, grabbing one of the books off her pile and opening it up. Draco continued to stare, hoping she'd get the hint, and when she clearly didn't he cleared his throat loudly.

"Ah, hem."

"You sound like Umbridge," Hermione informed him, and he was sure she was smirking again behind that damn book.

"Don't just ignore me! What kind of Healer are you!?"

"I'm not a Healer. I'm your girlfriend, and I'm not going to sit here and entertain you all day. You can read a book too, you know. Or sleep. Or I could write up some Arithmancy problems for you to practice with…"

"I can't hold a book comfortably with just one hand, and I've slept far too long already. I won't dignify the Arithmancy idea with an answer- you do remember we both got the same score, right? You don't have to treat me like an idiot."

Hermione sighed, dropping her book roughly onto her lap. "Using the Agrippan method, calculate my expression number."

"What? That's stupid…" Draco muttered, quietly thinking through the question. It didn't take him very long. "Four."

"Wrong," she said, calmly turning the page of the book she was reading.

He felt a vein starting to throb in his forehead. "What do you mean, 'wrong?'" he asked through gritted teeth.

She didn't even look up. "You used the name Granger. Twat."

Draco was about to throw the insult back at her, but realized she was right. He recalculated with her actual last name. "Okay, fair point…. Six."

"That was quick," Hermione answered, sounding impressed.

"You don't have to sound so surprised. I keep telling you, I'm smart. And according to basic numerology, this means you're generally a very balanced person. Although if you insist on giving me quiz questions all afternoon you're going to make me _un_balanced."

Hermione snapped her book closed. "What, exactly, do you propose I do? Shall I juggle for you? Sing a song? You know, if you had a TV you might not be so bored."

"A what? Just… levitate that book over here, will you? The third one down... '_Getting the Most Out of Your Sneakoscope_.' It's the only one that doesn't sound like schoolwork, and I can't use my wand left-handed."

Hermione complied, charming the book so it would stay open to the page Draco opened it to. He read, trying to ignore the wretched tingling in his arm and focus on Chapter 25, "_The Practical Applications of Sneakoscopes at Family Reunions_."

...

The itching faded in an extremely rapid manner around five in the afternoon. In fact, he felt completely normal so fast, he could pinpoint it to exactly between 5:05 and 5:10. He stared down at his arm… it looked normal. Maybe a shade lighter thanks to their day at the beach the past weekend tanning him from "porcelain" to "cream." In other words, not a huge difference.

He raised his hand, wiggling his fingers. He had been able to move the arm since the bandages were removed, but it had felt stiff and a little painful to do so earlier. Now, suddenly, his limb obeyed him perfectly and without consequence. He sighed gratefully, looking over at Hermione.

She was still curled up in her chair with a book on her lap, but she had looked up at his movements. "Feeling better?"

"Completely."

"No more urges to act uncharacteristically pleasant or revert back to a whining, bitchy twelve year old in rapid succession?"

"No, ma'am."

Just then, there was a tapping at the window. Hermione stood to let in the owl- it was Malfoy stock.

"Who did you owl?" Draco asked, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head. It felt so damn good to _move_ again!

"Well, I sent an owl to work to let them know why I've been absent and apologize, and to request the rest of the week off… and, of course, I owled the Ministry for you, too," she answered, breaking the seal on the letter the owl delivered.

Draco froze, arms held perfectly still in the air.

"The Ministry cared to write back- maybe they like you?" She started reading the letter, and Draco was filled with dread as a small frown began to develop on her face. Her obvious displeasure slowly intensified until her brow was drawn and her eyes turned sharply to him. "Oh, Draco? Are you aware that you no longer work at the Ministry? In fact, are you aware that you haven't worked at the Ministry since the beginning of _JULY_!?"

Shit.

"Uh… then again, my arm isn't feeling completely better. Ow, uh, wow, stretching it seems to have pulled something…"

Her eyes flashed dangerously as she approached the bed. "So, all this time, knowing full well how much I wanted that position, you've been _lying_ to me? Draco, how could you?"

"Well, it started when I didn't like you as much as I do now, and I thought if I told you you'd hex me into next year. And then I forgot, and then I realized it was too late to tell you without you reacting like this, and I guess it kind of…" Draco rolled his hands in a helpless gesture, "snowballed from there."

"Unbelievable!" Hermione cried, throwing her hands in the air as she headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"You're not injured anymore, remember? You don't need me sitting next to you for the rest of the evening- I'm going out, before I _do_ hex you!"

"Going out… where?"

She glared over her shoulder, and Draco, who had been starting to stand, shrunk back onto the bed. "Anywhere I _want_ to, until midnight."

And with that, she stomped out of the room, muttering things Draco was probably glad he couldn't hear.

…

She stormed over to see Ginny and Harry, not even aware that that's where her feet were taking her. They were just her go-to people these days, it seemed… though she hoped Ginny wouldn't poke at last night at all. Ginny poked at everything, but maybe she could just focus on Hermione's detailed bitching about Draco.

Harry answered the door, looking surprised. "It's just like Hogwarts," he said with a small smile as he stepped aside to let her in, "we see each other almost every day, and we end up in mortal peril regularly."

"And it's not even spring, yet," Hermione agreed in a forced upbeat-tone. Ginny was sitting on the couch, watching television. The walls had been painted with a fresh white primer, and the ginger girl had splatters of it in her hair.

"Hi!" Ginny said, grinning. "We put in some late hours on paperwork, so we got the day off! Guess what we used it to do!"

"It wasn't sleep…" Harry mumbled, and Hermione noticed his hands had splotches of white paint on them, too.

"Painting with magic is a very delicate art, and neither of us are very good at careful, exact spells like that… so we painted by hand! Like muggles! It was fun! There was paint everywhere!"

"Which we then had to clean up… with magic."

Hermione grinned. Ginny sounded like a cross between George and her father, her enthusiasm for muggle things obviously incensed with the addition of her television. She was watching a home improvement show, where a woman was explaining how to arrange furniture in a way that was "zen."

"How is Draco?" Harry asked, suddenly sounding serious as Hermione sat down on the couch next to Ginny.

"He's fine. At least, his arm has healed. He's an unappreciative, whining, lying git at times, but he's fine. And by "at times," I mean today."

Ginny grinned. "Uh, oh. Lover's quarrel."

"It's not… he quit working at the Ministry! Like, two months ago! I almost killed him over that position, and then he just drops it!"

"Why?" Harry asked, having a seat in a comfy brown chair next to the girls.

"I don't know… probably because he's rich and spoilt and doesn't actually need to work so he gives up easily. And then directly lies to his wife about it. For two months. Git."

Kreatcher appeared with some drinks, announcing that dinner would be ready in an hour.

"There will be enough for Master's guests, too, if she'll stay."

"I'd love to Kreatcher- thank you. I can't eat in the dining room at my own home, because I live with the father-in-law from hell," she said with a tight smile, her annoyance at her entire situation seeping into her voice.

"Oh… yes, then, three for supper," the elf replied, eyeing her warily before heading back to the kitchen.

"Did something happen with Lucius?" Ginny asked carefully, sensing Hermione's mood.

"Oh, was I too obvious? Nothing much- he just offered to give me bucket-loads of money."

"… as… a thank you for saving his butt last night?" Ginny queried, and Harry shook his head.

"Lucius uses his money for one reason only- to get what he wants from people. Any charity from that family is just a clever means to an end. Most likely, he offered her money to get rid of her."

Hermione took a sip of tea, pointing at her nose to indicate he got it right.

"That's horrible!" Ginny cried. "I assume you turned his face into a turtle or… something?"

Hermione shook her head. "I didn't provoke him. Much. I just told him that there was no way I'd accept, and that he should have a talk with his son instead of going behind his back with me."

"After which, said son pissed you off."

"Yes," Hermione answered, frowning in Ginny's direction. "He lied. I'm not really as mad as I know I _should_ be about it… but I had to leave the house for awhile."

"Make him sweat a bit," Ginny agreed, smirking into her mug.

"Yeah… that and I'd rather not be around when Lucius _does_ decide to confront Draco."

...

Draco wondered if he was supposed to go to dinner. He was only just healed, his wife had stormed out, and last time he check the dining hall was full of blood, traps, and bodies.

But if he didn't go, and his parents expected him to, then it would just get them annoyed. He knew he was already in trouble… his father had to know there was something more going on with him and his wife. He hadn't been subtle last night- it hadn't even crossed his mind when he saw that she was safe.

He was spared having to wonder about dinner for long, however, when his mother knocked on his door. He sat bolt-upright in bed, at first, thinking Hermione had returned… he hoped his mother didn't notice the disappointment on his face when she walked in.

"Draco?" she asked, coming close to the bed. "How are you? Does your arm hurt? Would you like some peanut brittle? I had the elves make some."

Peanut brittle was one of his favorites. "Sure. Thanks, mother."

She sat down in the chair by the bed, reaching up to touch his forehead.

"I don't have a fever."

"I know, but sometimes you can develop one if you take too many potions all at once. What about the blood replenishing potions? Have you had enough? Do you feel strong enough for dinner?

He had a choice? Still, he didn't think he could lie to his mother when she was clearly still worried about him. "I'm fine, really."

She frowned. "I see. Where is Hermione? The elves told me she left in a foul mood."

Of course. All the house elves at the manor answered to his mother before anyone, for some reason. "She, uh… just found out that I quit the internship."

Narcissa's eyebrows rose, her head tilted to the side. "Well, of course you did. It was beneath you, anyways. They should have treated you much better- if things were as they once were…"

"No, I just gave up. It got too hard, so I gave up. I'm not saying it wasn't the right choice- I hated it. But Hermione wanted that internship much more than I did, and then I discarded it." He rubbed at his forehead. "I should have just told her when I did it. She would probably have hexed me and been done with it. Now she's no doubt run off to her friends to stew…"

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't think…. Well, Draco, honey, I think she has a lot on her mind these days. She'll come back…unfortunately."

Draco glared. "Yes, she will. And I'm aware that there are plenty of things bothering her. Not that she'd actually stop and deal with her problems…"

"I mean to say that… something happened this morning, while you were still asleep. I believe your father had a little talk with Hermione…"


	44. Chapter 44

_A/N: Wow, so, I actually added a scene a little last minute to this, but I think it was needed. That makes this a bit of a bigger chapter, so yay!_

_Also, yeah, Hermione might have been a tad OOC last chapter. I just pictured her having no patience with Lucius after all she had done to protect their home. I kinda justified her rudeness with stress. Sorry if it came off as strange!_

**Chapter 44: The Consequences**

"Father!" Draco called out, slamming open the door to the dining room. Sure enough, his father was sitting at the head of the table. He had the evening edition of the Prophet in his hands, not even bothering to look up with his son's outburst.

"Ah, Draco. I see you're feeling well enough for dinner with us…"

"How could you?"

"How could I what?"

Draco walked right up to the man- he was angry, and at the same time he knew his father would never hurt him. The only thing he had to fear from Lucius was being disinherited, and Draco was just frustrated enough to not care.

"You offered her _money_!?"

Lucius looked at Narcissa as the woman followed her son into the room quietly. He frowned. "You told him?"

"If I didn't, she would have, and he would have been more upset. Besides- you're not ashamed of having done so. Why not tell him?"

Draco whirled on his mother. "You knew he would do this, didn't you?"

"Of course."

Draco grit his teeth, running a hand through his hair. He was verging on furious, now. "Why? If you insulted her, I'd be angry. But this is more an insult to _me_ than anyone, really! You tried to make her just disappear behind my back… you think I wouldn't have guessed? Did you think I wouldn't be angry?"

Lucius calmly folded his newspaper. "Draco, I don't like your tone," he said, his voice at that low, dangerous level he used before he got really angry. "Wouldn't things have been easier on you if she had accepted? As it is… we have few options left that won't require something of a struggle."

"If she was the kind of girl that would accept a bribe from you, then I wouldn't have fallen in love with her in the first place."

He had said it. His father clearly noticed, his eyes narrowing as he started to tap the table with his long fingers in a steady rhythm.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"Oh, Draco…" his mother admonished quietly, shaking her head.

"This is a good deal worse than I originally thought… Draco, where are you standing?"

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"What do you…I don't understand…"

"_WHERE_ are you _STANDING_!?" Lucius asked again, this time throwing the newspaper to the ground as his voice rose to a shocking volume.

Without really meaning to, Draco shrank back, cringing. "Ah… in the dining hall?"

"And where is the dining hall?"

"In, uh, Malfoy Manor."

"See, Narcissa? The boy has some amount of brains left in his head! And, Draco, who built Malfoy Manor?"

"A… Armond Malfoy," Draco had been drilled on such questions since he was little. At one point, he had been so proud to have every ancestor memorized. Then, at some point in his teenage years, he had grown extremely tired of being tested periodically by his father. Now he was certain his father had been saving up this information in order to win this very argument, if it ever were to come up.

"Armond was a Wizard, who made our fortune and started this family's power in Britain. He was a true Wizard, Draco."

"I'm aware."

"His son was also an untainted Wizard. What was his name?"

"Hyperion," Draco muttered, not liking where this conversation was going. His father wasn't the type to have an outburst and let the lecture end. He was going to drag this on.

"And his son?"

"Nepharis. Please, can we be done with this?"

"Can we be done with this?" Lucius hissed, and Draco realized he had said exactly the wrong thing. "Yes, we could be _done_ with _this_. That is precisely my point. Have you heard the name Arsenius Pyrite? Alexander Lowe? Franco Desnair?"

Draco chewed the inside of his cheek nervously. He knew exactly who those people were. "Yes."

"They ended their proud lines, Draco. They kicked their family's out of the Sacred Twenty-Eight in just the past hundred years. We learn their names so we can remind ourselves why it's our responsibility to do better- what kind of world will it be when there are no true Wizards left? Magic will decay and our kind will fall into ruin once the magical blood runs dry, polluted with muggles who do a great imitation of true witches and wizards."

"Do you know what else could end our line, father?" Draco said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. He couldn't believe he was talking out loud, but once he started it just poured out. "If we had died in a war against people who didn't want to fight, over a concept that, frankly, I don't think even matters anymore. If there is such a big difference, why does it matter?"

"Draco…" his father growled warningly.

"No, I'm serious. I guess I thought it mattered because muggle-borns were dangerous. They were lesser creatures, who stole magic and tried to usurp authority from real wizards. But that's not really the truth, is it? It's a scary bedtime story, and that's all. If there are differences, I guess I'm too stupid to tell anymore. But in the end, magic or not, it doesn't matter because we're all human… only _we're_ the humans that fought and tortured and killed them. Who seems less human, in reality?"

"I see the Ministry's propaganda has gotten to you."

"No, I figured it out for myself, the day that it was worth my life to try and save hers. It doesn't matter-my opinions are irrelevant anyways, right? The point is that I'm not leaving her, and I'm willing to accept the consequences. Are you?"

...

Hermione apparated home around eleven, not wanting to have that horrible pulling portkey feeling by waiting for midnight to roll around. She was still a little angry with Draco's lies, but what she had said to Ginny was true- she wasn't nearly as angry as she should be. Probably, if he had told her just a month ago, she would have been furious, but right now… she was really just happy to have him around, even if he was a liar. Besides, she knew he was a liar when she signed up for this relationship, didn't she?

Hopefully, he didn't have any more little secrets.

The thing that really had set her on edge was Draco's father. He really couldn't speak without insulting her, even though they had fought side by side the night before, protecting the Manor. She had even stood up for him…

She still would have done so, even if she had known that the next morning he would try to buy her off. She didn't feel the guilt she knew she should feel for killing Benjamin- it was him or Draco. That's the same mentality Lucius had had the whole fight. He was just protecting his family.

She apparated to the front gates, no longer seeing the need to sneak into Draco's room. The jig was up, anyways.

There was a conspicuous blond head standing by the gate, hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned heavily on the tall wrought-iron fence. Draco.

"What are you doing out here?" Hermione asked, taking a few steps closer to him. "Waiting for me?"

Draco shook his head. "Yes and no. My father kicked me out."

"He… he what!?"

"He said I needed time to think, and he didn't want to look at me for awhile. It sounds temporary- he'll want me back to yell at me some more soon enough, I'm sure."

"Draco… that's horrible…"

Draco shrugged. "It's expected. It's not over until he rewrites his will, anyways. Frankly I'd say he was downright gentle, compared to what I expected. My mother was giving him hell, though- I expect they're still having a row in there." He gestured towards the house with his head and Hermione imagined Narcissa screaming at Lucius. It was kind of hard to picture- she had always assumed Lucius was the dominant of the two, but when it came to her son who knew?

Hermione sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Well, it's kind of entirely my fault, isn't it? But you saved some money up anyways, right?"

Draco snorted. "I stashed some gold in my room, but my father didn't give me time to go and get it. I mean he _literally_ kicked me out- walked me to the front door, snatched my Gringotts key, and said, 'Since you seem to have so many new friends, go rely on their charity.' I think he expects me to break if I don't have any money."

Secretly, Hermione wondered if he would. He had no idea what it would be like to work for a living, and to live on a budget. "How long?"

"Until he cools down- Marriage Law probably ends in the next month. I expect he'll want me back around then to try and convince me to divorce you."

"So… should we go to Harry and Ginny's? I just came from there… or we could go to my parent's house. They would be happy to have me stay at home for awhile."

Draco shook his head. "I don't need anyone's charity," he patted the side of his robes, and Hermione heard the jingling of a satchel. "I have _some_ walking-around money; should be enough to rent something until this blows over."

Hermione crossed her arms, giving him a skeptical look. "And if it doesn't blow over? Are you going to waste the gold you have? What then? I have an interview with my boss on Monday about permanent employment, which I've decided to accept. Metal Charmers make fairly decent wages… but what about you? You should be careful with your money."

Draco inexplicably grinned. "Well, I guess _you_ could always support me, Mrs. Working Witch."

Hermione slapped his shoulder, not appreciating the humor. "I'm serious! Have you put any thought at all into a future where you're not disgustingly rich? What would you do?"

"I… haven't really thought through it, no. But I don't have much of an option, do I?"

"There are always options… we'll just have to convince Lucius, somehow."

Draco's eyebrows rose, surprised. "There is no 'we' when it comes to my father. I'll handle it. And, by the way, you could have told me earlier what he tried to do this morning."

"And you could have told me earlier that you bailed on the Ministry internship!"

The two were quiet for a long moment, staring at each other. If he wanted to waste his money on a place for them to stay, she couldn't stop him. She had to go wherever he went, anyways… although that would all end in a month. Even if they didn't get divorced, they would be able to remove their awful prison-rings with the ring remover. They could do that now, actually, if they could get their hands on the device, since the jig was up.

Stay married? When had that even been on the table? Draco seemed to be pretty sure that would happen, now, and for some reason she didn't see it as being strange anymore either. After all they had been through, she was his wife. "You're not my boyfriend anymore," she informed him suddenly, and in answer to his shocked and hurt expression she just laughed. "Calm down- I mean, I don't _think_ of you as my boyfriend anymore. You're my husband. I'm not going to let you go that easily, and since we're both in this together I'll help in any way I can when it comes to your father."

"I… I see," Draco said, stunned. He looked down to the ground, shuffling around some of the gravel at the entryway. He looked up suddenly, blinking. "Your things. They're still in the Manor, too."

"Well, they can't keep me from my things, I could just go in and…"

"No! No, that's definitely not a good idea. Not right now. My mother will certainly think to have the elves owl us our belongings soon enough, anyways…"

"But what about Crookshanks! I have a cat, you know!"

Actually, Draco had quite forgotten about the big fluffy animal. "The elves will keep taking care of it. Let's just go find a place to stay for now- it's late."

"There are rooms for rent above the Leaky Cauldron."

Draco snorted. "I hope that was a joke."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Then where…?"

"Let's find a decent hotel for tonight- we'll worry about the details in the morning. There's a place in London that has a whole floor that caters to wizards and witches. Their room service is fantastic, too- I'm starved."

...

The old elf mumbled to himself, feeling particularly perturbed.

Yugo wasn't used to losing his Masters and Mistresses.

And now, two had left suddenly. No word if they would even bring elves to their new Manor. But Mistresses and Masters needed elves- who would cook, clean, and protect them?

The Lady of the House, his favorite Mistress, had told him to pack up some of the two run-away's things for them. She had said he was to do it quickly, without telling the Lord of the House, his least-favorite Master.

Yugo knew what to do. He knew all their favoritest things.

He threw some books from the bedside table into the charmed sack. He opened the trunk by the dresser, taking out things his Young Mistress loved and had brought with her to the mansion. There was some ink. He put it in the bag. There was a meager purse of coins. He put it in the bag. There was a photo album. He put it in the bag.

Yugo scurried over to the Young Master's old school trunk, where he had thought he had hidden his coins carefully. But Yugo knew. Yugo always knew where everything in the Manor was.

Unfortunately, so did the Lord of the House. He had removed the bag and sent the gold back to Gringotts.

But Yugo knew there were a few stashed coins hiding out among the Young Master's socks. He had seen them there while putting away laundry... worried that that laundry would never be worn by the Young Master again. Worried that he would never be able to clean those socks again...

After the careless Lord of the House had snatched the gold bag so angrily from it's hiding spot, he had assumed that that was all of it. He didn't ask Yugo, so Yugo offered no assistance tracking down the rest of the gold. He picked out those few coins, now.

He put them in the bag.

Satisfied that he had done a good job, the elf took the necessities to the owlery, humming a little as he went.

…

Draco tried to stay calm and put on the bravest face possible given the circumstances, though Hermione's skepticism about his ability to survive on the measly gold in his pocket was not comforting. Her comments about their marriage, however, put him in a fairly decent mood despite being kicked out of his home.

He expected this outcome, but somehow it still came as a shock to have his father become so visibly angry with him… Draco was lucky he was only kicked out of the house. That much disappointment and burning anger in the older man's eyes was usually an indication of a much worse punishment for enemies. It seemed Lucius really hadn't known what to do with his frustrations when they were directed at his own son, and so he had simply made Draco leave while he assembled his thoughts.

Draco hoped his mother could do something, but he very much doubted she could. He knew what his father's final decision would be, if Draco continued to be "stubborn" about Hermione. At the very least he should be allowed to get his personal things… which would, with a little luck, include his school trunk where he had been hoarding gold, taken from the bank in small inconspicuous increments. He had enough to live fairly comfortably for the rest of his life, though he would never own his own Quidditch pitch or anything again.

But he would have Hermione. Which was much better than a Quidditch Pitch, he supposed.

She was standing at the large window of their seventh floor room, hands pressed to the cool glass as she gazed down at the lights of the muggle city. He could see the reflection of her face, and she didn't look very happy. He could imagine about a million reasons why.

"Are you alright?" he asked, though a little greedy voice inside was kind of hoping she would be comforting him, instead… his night had not been easy.

She turned to look at him, a thick lock of hair falling into her face and obscuring one eye. She reached up to push it behind her ear, her eyes dropping to the clean white carpet. "I'm fine… no, I don't know why I just said that. Neither of us are very 'fine' right now, huh?" She smiled weakly, looking up to meet his eyes. "I should have told you about the money your father offered me this morning. I guess I didn't want to add something else to the list of things I've done to drive a wedge between you and your family."

"Again- any 'wedges' are not your fault. Stop feeling so damn guilty… how much did he offer you, anyways?"

"A hundred and twenty a year for life."

Draco whistled, standing next to her to look out the window as he popped the uncomfortable top button of his robes. "That's not bad. You could have retired and rented your own villa."

"Yeah? You think?" She asked, looking up at him with a spark in her eyes and her lips curling upwards. She was beautiful when she smiled. "Did I make a terrible mistake?"

"Dreadful. I'm sure plenty of witches would think you were a few hedghogs short of a Gangrene Potion."

"Is that a phrase that's supposed to mean 'dumb?' Because I'm smart enough to know that witches stopped using hedghogs in Gangrene Potion centuries ago."

"Yes, yes it is," he answered, taking a step closer to her so he could place his hands at her hips, turning her body to face him. "But then, I can see how that wouldn't be enough to keep you away from someone like me- my golden hair, my perfect cheekbones…"

"…your modest nature."

He grinned. She was transforming before his eyes, her good humor returning along with her color as whatever dark thoughts she had been contemplating faded away. "I'm sorry about lying. Are we past that?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. Just don't do it again."

"I won't."

"Promise?" she asked, her smile on halfway and her eyes sparkling with humor but narrowed as if suspicious.

"I solemnly swear it."

Hermione laughed, then, and while he didn't understand where her humor was coming from he joined in with a chuckle of his own.

He didn't really know all that had happened to her the other night, at the Manor… she was doing that maddening thing again, where she pretended nothing was wrong and buried her problems. She seemed to think that made her brave, but Draco had decided that summer morning when he saw the scar on her hand that it was simply cowardly. She hid things because she didn't want to _deal_ with them.

But she didn't have to deal with them alone. How could he make her understand?

He let his hands slip behind her, touching the small dip at her back. "Hermione…about the attack on the Manor…" he started, his tone becoming suddenly very serious. She gulped, her eyes sliding to the side as if she could read his mind.

"Don't," she said simply. "It's not a big deal."

"I think it is a big deal- if it weren't, you would be able to talk about it. Look, Nott's going to Azkaban. Nothing can change that, so you don't have to go his trial. There's enough evidence stacked against him already that one more thing won't change his sentence. You don't have to tell a court room full of old wizards what happened, but you should at least be able to tell the one wizard who loves you."

Hermione met his gaze again, all traces of their earlier humor gone. Her eyes looked dull, her expression very guarded. It made Draco nervous… his eyes dipped down to the top of her shirt. She had carefully worn something high enough to cover the white scar where _Nott_ had cut her. The bastard had obviously been responsible for that.

Hermione followed his gaze, looking down. "He used a severing spell to cut my dress… and when I struggled, he slipped and cut me pretty deep. I think he did it on purpose, though- he seemed to like it."

Draco felt his blood begin to boil, his vision going momentarily red. He struggled to maintain composure, his face slipping into the calm mask he adapted for situations like this. "And then what?" he ground out between clenched teeth. He had guessed part of the story from the overheard conversation between Hermione and his mother, but hearing it from her made it more real. He was imagining all the ways he could sneak into the holding cells in the Ministry and bash in Nott's teeth.

At his unsteady tone, Hermione's face hardened and she pulled away. "You heard Yugo- he saved me. He punished Nott adequately. I don't see why we're having this conversation…"

"Yugo took his eyes and wanted to take his hands…"

"Yes, well, you'll notice that the elf didn't mention any other body parts. So, you should have the answer you're fishing for."

"I'm not… I mean… so he didn't…" Draco couldn't believe how hard it was to give voice to his fears. If _he_ couldn't say it, then how could he expect _her_ to? How big of a coward was he? "…_force_ himself on you?"

Hermione's face flushed, and she refused to meet his eyes. "No. He would have, but he didn't get that far."

"But he touched you?"

Her eyes grew wide, but she still didn't look at him. "W…why do you need to know?"

"You need to tell someone. Besides, I need to know just how hard I need to punch Nott. I'm quickly approaching the conclusion of 'unhinged jaw' at this point."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't you dare get in trouble over this- like you said, he'll go to Azkaban anyways. He'll get punishment enough… not to mention that the image of his eyes being gouged out will never be wiped from my memory…" she shuddered, but Draco couldn't find much sympathy for the man who had cut and molested his wife.

Hermione walked to the corner of the room where the mini bar was located, pulling out a cold bottled water to drink. She sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a sip. "He really seemed to get off on someone being in pain, too. I don't know at what point he became so twisted… he always seemed so quiet at school…"

"The war changed a lot of people. Not that that's any excuse," Draco managed, feeling a little awkward standing above her.

The war changed a lot of people. Was that true, or was Nott always a monster?

What about Draco? What did the war change inside of him? It seemed, to him, that the effect was perhaps the opposite in his case. Draco had seen darkness and nearly tripped over his own feet as he ran as far away from it as he could. And hid.

He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he just did the only thing he could think of- he sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders. This seemed to be the right move, as she tilted towards him, humming lightly. He took her hand with his free one, setting the water bottle on the floor and pulling her hand up towards his mouth. He placed a light kiss on the skin between her thumb and fingers- where the scar still glared up at him. She had too many scars- he wished he could just erase them all now.

"I don't like it," she said after a drawn-out moment of silence. She was staring down at where their hands now lay on Draco's lap, their fingers linked lightly.

"What?" They were whispering now. Draco wasn't even sure why.

She frowned, and the motion was a little too shaky on her face. Like she was fighting against something. "Being weak. Being made to feel weak. Admitting that I am."

"You're not weak, Hermione. That's just insane."

She shook her head, her bushy hair tickling his cheek. "I get scared Draco- all the time. I get scared, and I just try to push it back. I pretend to be brave because that's what I am, isn't it? I'm the one who keeps a level head. I need to be that person. When you were hit with that spell... I was so scared." She took a shaky breath, that little frown again fighting it's way onto her face. "I think Nott knew that, really. I never backed down- not when we were at school, not when he punched me in the hall, and not even when he apparated me away at the manor. I kept fighting back. Guys like Nott don't like to lose. He wanted to scare me, and he succeeded. So that's why I didn't want to talk about it, and why I'm embarrassed. It's not about what he tried to do... it's about what he did. He scared me. He won."

"The fuck he did!" Draco growled, somehow still maintaining the strange whispered tone of the conversation. He moved his hand up her arm, grabbing her elbow to turn her towards him. It drove him nuts that she still wasn't looking up at him, still not meeting his eyes. "You won- you got away, and you went on to fight some more! You kicked all of his friend's _asses_, Hermione!" He was attempting to make the conversation a little lighter while pointing out the obvious. How could she possibly think she was weak, after all she had done? "You saved my life- if you hadn't been there, who knows how that battle would have gone down? You probably saved my whole family. And Ginny. Hell, even Harry, as I heard it."

"I know, but-"

"No, no 'but!' He's a coward-"

"Of course, but-"

"And maybe I'll admit you're a bit mental, yeah, but never a coward. Never weak. You put too much pressure on yourself, just like the rest of your stupid Gryffindor friends." He tried to make it clear he was joking, giving her a little squeeze as he held her. Finally, she stopped putting up a fight, sighing deeply and melting against him.

"Okay," she said, blinking quickly.

He grabbed her chin, tilting her face up so she would finally have no choice but to look him in the eyes. "You're bloody brilliant. No one should ever make you feel like less than the perfect little know-it-all you've always been. You're mine, and you're perfect."

That did it. The pools clinging to her eyes by sheer force of will finally spilled, dripping silently down both of her cheeks like the beginnings of a light spring rain. She didn't sob, or bury her face in his chest, or anything hysterical... though by all rights she should have. After everything that she had been through, and everything that she had faced... she was the strongest person Draco had ever known.

"You're... you're pretty great yourself," Hermione said after a few quiet seconds, a small strained bubble of laughter pushing it's way past her lips.

"Well, _yeah_, but I know it so no one has to tell me. It's a given."

She shuddered a little, but it seemed to be from laughter rather than tears, and she pressed her face resolutely to his neck. She breathed deeply, her lips pressed lightly to his skin but not moving. She was so damn soft, and the feel of her pressed close made all their problems seem to far away. Her lips, her tickling strands of unruly hair, her light breath on his neck- it all felt right. He didn't regret a damn thing when she was with him. She made everything right, and he only hoped he was able to make her feel the same.

"Hey, let's get some sleep," Draco muttered, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "We have a big day of being homeless to get to tomorrow."

Hermione nodded against him. Who knew how long it would take to sort it all out: their emotions, their situation, their lives... but at least they had each other.

The complicated couple crawled into bed, both sleeping in their clothes since neither had anything else to wear. Draco pulled Hermione close, fully intending to maintain his grip on her all through the night.

...

_A/N: I'm going to post this here, because hopefully then I'll actually stick with this idea: After this fic is done, I might not have anything new coming out for awhile because I want to spend some time learning how to code. I want SO BAD to make a Hogwarts dating sim game! XD It's my current fantasy. I even ordered a tablet so I can draw the characters (though my art skills are not the best...). What characters would you want to be "datable" at Hogwarts? I have a list in mind already, but I'd be interested in your input. Obviously, Draco is a given. Has anyone else worked with Ren'Py before? I think it's the best program with a simple tutorial. Hmm... just an idea..._


	45. Chapter 45

_A/N: Those asking about Franny Fortune... it is an OC, fyi. I hope you guys like how I wrap things up these next few chapters. I'm actually pretty nervous about them. I like this chapter, but chapter 46 is rough. I might need an extra day to work on it. I worked on this fic over two years, and every time I came back to it I started at the beginning and edited my way up. So, the earlier chapters were revised about a million times, while my later chapters were just written in November._

**Chapter 45: The Nightmare**

Draco was at a party. The details were a little fuzzy, but he was fairly certain it was a birthday party. A party for him.

When he was young, he never had birthday parties with only children. Frankly, there weren't enough children alive in the UK that his parents would allow him to associate with, but that was beside the point. Parties, even birthday parties, were an opportunity for his parents to network, show off their wealth, and discuss his future with like-minded wizards and witches. And that's exactly the kind of party this was.

He was standing by the wall with Pansy and a couple of other kids that had been flooed in from France. He never learned their names- they were a few years older than him, and though their parents had tried to urge them to "play with the Malfoy heir," they seemed incredibly bored.

Adults were standing around talking and laughing fakely, and to Draco they suddenly seemed very, very tall. He was, afterall, only seven years old. Yes, he remembered now. This was his 7th birthday party. Everything around him seemed so enormous- the adults, the tables, the cake… well, the cake _was_ enormous, he remembered. Too much cake for the relatively small party of pure-bloods.

All to show everyone how important he was. He was Draco Malfoy. He was an heir to a proud and untainted line.

The undercurrent of chatter and house elves pouring drinks and children pretending to have fun was suddenly cut silent. Completely, absolutely silent. It wasn't that everything froze… no, in fact, everyone in the room was suddenly turning around. They were all staring expectantly towards the door in the eerie quiet of the ballroom.

Now, in reality, the front door and the ballroom are very far apart. And yet, there it was, looming menacingly against the far wall of the room, and for some reason Draco couldn't tear his eyes away.

"Thwack. Thwack. Thwack."

The sound wasn't like a knocking. It was a strange squelching banging noise, a sound he couldn't quite place. One minute, everyone in the room was staring at the door, listening to that sound in stony silence… and then, just as suddenly, the party resumed.

Draco felt shaken, though he couldn't place why. There was something terrible behind that door, he knew. Something he didn't want to see.

"Ugh. This is so boring. Mother says I can spend the night, though," Pansy was saying. She grinned at him. "Let's listen to my new "Warring Toads" record! Mother hates it…"

Draco just nodded. He felt… distracted. He remembered that, in reality, he had declared that band to be terrible and made Pansy play quidditch with him instead. She hated flying, but she did it anyways.

Suddenly, people started dancing. His mother was dressed up just like she had been at the recent Charity Ball, and she smiled proudly down at him as his father swung her around gracefully. His father… was not in dress robes, though.

He was wearing his dirty Azkaban robes. He didn't seem to notice, and continued dancing around the hall as if nothing were different. As if nothing were wrong.

As if the door wasn't still looming, now moved closer down the wall towards Draco.

And then, the dancing stopped, and everyone turned again towards the door.

"Thwack. Thwack! Thwack!"

The sound was louder, closer. It sounded wetter, too, and Draco was beginning to realize he knew that sound. He wished he didn't, but he could never erase that from his mind completely. His breathing grew heavy, the drink in his hand gripped just a little tighter.

"What's wrong?" asked Pansy.

Draco looked down at her. Down. She was still seven years old, but now, he was taller. He wasn't a child anymore.

He was an adult. Not a child.

The party continued once again, and Draco couldn't control his shaking. He knew what was coming, now. He knew… but he couldn't do anything to stop it. No one… Nothing could stop it.

Now, everyone sat down to dinner. They were in the dining room, without Draco remembering walking there. The candelabras were lit, but the room just a little too dark for a cheerful party. Everyone was laughing and talking and eating and drinking… Pansy was gone. So were the other children. It was just Draco and the other adults, now.

"Pass me some butter, would you dear?" his mother asked. The house elves passed food around- no one had ever asked him to pass anything. In fact, no one had ever been this loud at the dinner table before. The din of silverware scraping plates, glasses clinking, laughter exploding… it was much more like his night at the Burrow, actually.

And despite all of this merriment, the darkness in the room persisted. The door continued to stalk him. It was just behind his chair, now, looming.

Sudden silence.

"THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!" went the door, the sound turning Draco's stomach.

And the party continued.

When Draco turned back away from the door this time, however, there was no food on the table. People were still laughing loudly and chatting and moving their hands as if they had glasses of champagne in them… but there was nothing there. No one was looking at what was on the table. Everyone was ignoring what was obvious.

There was a body on the table. Or, rather, floating just above it. The woman was crying, spinning slowly as she was held upside down by an invisible thread.

Draco felt as though his body had turned to stone, and he couldn't even bring himself to move his eyes to see who was sitting at the head of the table. Because he knew who was there. He knew this scene.

Unlike the real murder of the Muggle Studies Professor, there was still an actual party going on. His father let out a particularly loud bout of happy laughter just as the flash of green light hit the woman, killing her instantly.

Draco stood up. He wasn't frozen anymore, and he needed to move. He needed to escape. He couldn't stand to watch what was happening in front of him, and he didn't have the courage to stop it either. He felt like he was cornered- all sides of the room were filled with a solid wall, unlike the dual doors of the two entryways to the actual dining hall. There was only one way out.

The front door.

It was almost a living being- Draco swore it was breathing. As he took a step towards it, it held it's breath. Everyone in the room held their breath.

He had nowhere else to run.

He touched the smooth golden knob, turning it slowly, hoping against hope that the source of that sound wouldn't be waiting for him… but knowing full well it would be. He was perspiring heavily, his breath ragged and his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

He opened the door quickly, opting to get it over with.

And there it was- one of the worst scenes he had witnessed during the longest year of his life. He had seen people killed. He had seen people tortured. He had even seen people enjoy it. But he had never seen such a gruesome, hands-on murder before that terrible Christmas Eve.

This was before the "Potter Trio" were captured and brought to the manner. Draco was sure of that. In reality, the girl his aunt had stuck the large ugly knife into had been a muggle who's home had been commandeered for the "cause." But in that moment, for Draco, she suddenly looked just like Hermione. He watched from the doorway overlooking the front stoop, unable to stop staring at the scene taking place in front of him. Unable to stop it.

"We don't have time for this- just throw her downstairs with the others," Bellatrix ordered the faceless werewolf holding the girl. Hermione. It was Hermione, now.

"Fuck you!" the girl suddenly shouted, thrashing in her captor's arms. "I have rights! I don't know who you costumed freaks are, but you'd better let me go right now, you hag!"

The girl had been in her early twenties, with strawberry blonde hair and wearing pajamas. Now that she was Hermione, the words felt a little odd coming from her mouth. Hermione, afterall, wasn't a muggle. She would also have known what a hag was, and why a witch would not want to be called one.

Hermione would also have known, at this point, how dangerous it was to piss off his Auntie Bellatrix.

Thwack. Bellatrix pulled the knife and ended the girl's life without a thought. She hit her in the stomach, not once, but three times. She could easily have pulled her wand to strike the girl. She could have ended it quickly and cleanly with a killing curse. But she didn't. Because Bellatrix _liked_ the feel of that knife in her hands, and she liked it even more when she was sliding it into someone else.

It was worse than a killing curse, seeing all that blood pouring from the open wound. It made it all more real.

Draco's blood ran cold. He shouldn't have seen that. He should have been inside the Manor. Why had he chosen that exact moment to go outside for a breath of fresh air? It was snowing out, and deceptively peaceful looking despite the red stain littering his front lawn.

He didn't do anything to stop it then, and he couldn't do anything now, even though she was Hermione. It could have been Hermione, couldn't it have? That night when his Aunt had tortured her… this was probably how that night would have ended. And Draco would have stood by the mantle, quiet and trying not to watch. Pretending what he saw didn't affect him.

Bellatrix slowly wiped the knife on her black skirt as the girl fell, a twisted smile on her face. "Nevermind. One less mouth to feed down there," she said to the werewolf, then indicated with a tilt of her head for him to take the body away.

But when Bellatrix turned to look at Draco, her face changed. It wasn't his Aunt anymore. Her eyes were surrounded by deep bruises- they looked almost hollow. Her skin wasn't pale- it was white. It was death. Her hair was as dark as it had been in the picture, but it was wild scraggly, like she had been in a fight with an animal. Like she _was_ an animal.

It was Franny Fortune. It was the woman from the book Hermione found.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

That sound... that sound didn't belong here. It was clear and broke through the gloom.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap!

The woman reached out her white hands, pointing at him. Her nails were long and sharp, broken and brittle. She moved her mouth, like she was trying to talk. Draco took a step backwards... though he knew there was no escape.

Taptaptaptaptap!

"Draco!" Hermione yelled. Hermione was the girl who had been killed, now, but the girl stood up. Hermione was talking to him, even as the knife was still stuck in her gut, blood still dripping to the snow below. "Can you get that?"

Franny Fortune suddenly moved very fast, coming towards him, gripping his shoulder tightly in her claw-like hands. Her face was inches from him, and her mouth was still moving like she was talking.

"...the one who loves you most..." she croaked, the words finally slipping past her dry and blistered lips, "...she will die."

...

Hermione gave up trying to talk to him when she realized he wasn't, in fact, awake. He was talking in his sleep, tossing and turning, the sheets winding their way around his legs like an Incarcerous spell.

There was an owl pecking rather violently at the window, obviously annoyed at having to wait so long for them to wake up and let it in. Draco was nearest the window, but Hermione leaned over him and attempted to pry it open.

No good. This was a high floor in the hotel... maybe the windows didn't open? At least, not for muggles... this section was frequented by wizards, though, and wizards used owls.

With a sigh, Hermione crawled out of bed and grabbed her wand from the nightstand. She was tired and grumpy, and even though she was worried about Draco she was much more concerned with stopping that damn bird from making it's racket!

She tried a few spells on the window, finally unlocking it with a simple "Alohamora." The large bird, clearly a Malfoy owl, burst into the room in an eruption of beating wings and feathers, knocking over the lamp by the bed in the process.

With the crash of the lamp, Draco jerked awake, crying out and nearly falling out of bed in the process. His eyes searched the room frantically, his head turning this way and that until he finally set eyes on her.

"H... Hermione?" he asked, his voice more than a little shaken.

"I'm here," she said, still trying to shake the sleep from her own mind. Draco had obviously been having a bad night, and they had both been waken up so early... she looked at the clock. 3:00 am.

Yuck.

"Alright, owl, let's seen what was so important it couldn't wait until morning." She took the satchel from the bird, and the owl glowered back at her. There was something a little extra grumpy about the Malfoy family owls on a normal day. When left outside for too long, they tended to look positively livid.

As she was pulling the contents of the satchel out onto the small table in their room, Draco dragged himself out of bed and closer to her.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked him. She didn't want to pry too much... she had managed to make out a few things as he mumbled in his sleep, and she had a feeling that this was one nightmare he probably didn't feel like discussing. A Death Eater memory.

"I'm fine," he muttered, coming to stand behind her and look over her shoulder at the bag. "Did... did my mother send this?"

"I don't know. There's no card, but I'd expect so. See, here's my hairbrush and... ink?"

"Hmm..." Draco murmured as he picked something else up off the table. "My chocolate frog cards? Who _packed_ this?"

At the same time, they both said, "A house elf."

It was pretty obvious.

Hermione was happy that _someone_ tried to get their things to them, even if it wasn't necessarily the most _useful_ assortment of items. She picked up the strange photo album, examining it. It had been packed away in her old trunk, a mystery she had little chance of ever solving and had all but given up on at this point. Yet somehow it had made it's way back to her.

"So... do you want to talk about... well, whatever nightmare you were having?"

Draco scoffed, and ran a hand lazily through his hair. "I'm not a child. I think I can handle a nightmare all by myself, thanks."

Hermione nodded, ignoring his rather snippy early-morning attitude and thinking. They had been through so much together, but neither of them had really opened up much about their past. It didn't seem quite right, running away together and still being in the dark about so many things.

"It was close to Christmas," she began, and Draco flinched. She wasn't sure what his Christmas had been like that year, but she continued her story. "Well, actually, it _was_ Christmas. Harry and I didn't even know that until we visited the town... Godric's Hollow, that is. We went there to investigate Bathilda Bagshot, to see if she had the Sword of Gryffindor. We needed it to destroy Voldemort's Horcuxes. The things that kept him alive. There were seven of them, and we had one on us that was driving us mad. We, uh... we found Bathilda Bagshot..."

"Yeah. He killed her," Draco answered darkly, and Hermione looked up to meet his eyes. How much of this story did he already know?

"Do you know why?"

Draco shrugged. "Because he liked killing people? I couldn't keep track of every reason he invented."

Hermione nodded, pursing her lips. This memory was particularly stressful for her. "Anyways, we found her, and she led us to her house... except, of course, it wasn't her. Because Voldemort killed her. Then he put his... snake... into her corpse to trick us. It almost got Harry that night."

"What do you mean, into her corpse?" Draco asked, though immediately afterwards he looked like he regretted it.

"I mean, when it got Harry alone... it burst out, tried to kill him. I arrived just as it was happening. I saw that thing pop out of her skin like an egg in the microwave... well, let's just say it was messy. And horrifying. I managed to save Harry just in time, though I broke his wand in the process."

"Why are you telling me this?" Draco asked, palming the few gold pieces that had been sent to them.

"Because that was the second worst thing I saw that year. It's one of my most common nightmares, too."

"What's the-" Draco started to ask, then shook his head, sitting back down on the bed. He obviously was going to ask what her number one worst memory was, but then decided better of it. Or maybe he guessed. Seeing her friend's bodies lined up in the Great Hall, everyone so quiet and still like they were just sleeping... that's the thing with the killing curse- it didn't usually leave scars. There were few open wounds, few indications that the people she went to school with for six years were actually dead.

Except that they were.

It had been hard for her brain to process, then. Especially Fred.

Draco was looking very resolutely at the ground, and didn't say another word, so Hermione continued going through their things. There wasn't much, and she still intended to demand the rest of her belongings back. It was nice to be able to brush her hair, though, so she wouldn't look like a monster walking around Diagon Alley today when she went to buy supplies.

She moved to the mirror, getting started on the mop on her head. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now, anyways.

Draco seemed to have the same idea, and took off his shirt, aiming some spells at it to clean and press the thing. It didn't seem like he was up for exchanging stories, but that was okay with Hermione. When he was ready, he would tell her. In the meantime, she would tell him everything she could about the real story of the defeat of Voldemort. She was beginning to realize that there was just no need to keep such things a secret- not from him.

...

Narcissa was beside herself with a stress that had been building for weeks now. What more was a mother to do? What else could she say that hadn't been said?

She sat in her parlor, _alone_. That's what she was reduced to.

She had tried reasoning with Lucius. She had tried crying. She had tried pleading. She had tried yelling. She had even tried flinging a couple curses around his office in a final fit of rage, smashing his favorite cabinet into kindling.

Still, her baby was out there, somewhere, instead of at home where he belonged. Who knew what could happen?

She wasn't stupid- Draco was an adult, and he could take care of himself. She knew that. And yet...

"Dammit!" she yelled, flinging a third curse for the night and knocking a vase from her own mantle. She hated that stupid vase, anyways- it had been a Christmas present from her late mother-in law, and it was extremely ugly. She didn't know what to do with herself. She had promised that Draco would grow up with anything and everything he ever wanted. That he would be a happy, healthy child and one day grow up to be a happy, healthy man. _Lucius_ had promised... what was the point of everything she and Lucius had built and worked for if not for their son? The bad choices and the good ones, the intention was always to try and make a better life for him.

He had promised her. They had only one son, and Lucius had promised...

Narcissa paced about the room, a hand to her chest. She had had an elf send them a few things- Lucius wasn't letting her anywhere near Draco's room. He said it was for "Draco's own good," to "give the boy some perspective."

No. No, it would just drive him further away. She could see him slipping through her fingers... she would even accept that damn mudblood girl into her family if it would bring Draco back! Honestly... she found she couldn't even hate Hermione, not really. The girl had a lot of good traits, and she obviously cared about Draco. She would take care of him, and even though the witch's presence had caused so many problems with their small family, it had never been her intent.

Draco was gone, but it wasn't because of Hermione. It was because of Lucius.

All the anxiety she had felt during the war was coming back full force, and she had to forcibly remind herself that Draco wasn't actually in any danger. He would be fine. He would be.

But he wasn't _home_.

She sat on the sofa in a manner that was not at all lady-like, plopping down and crossing her arms across her chest with a huff.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Unbidden, thoughts of the past began to invade. She tried to push them away, and her failure only increased her frustrations.

She only had one child.

She left her parlor before she realized where her feet were taking her, walking down the hallways purposefully. Her clicking heels almost sounding like they were encouraging her, clapping as she walked.

She headed off to the eastern hall, toward the storage space in the ceiling. She wasn't sure why she was here- it was just a gut feeling. She used her wand to make the ladder drop, and carefully climbed up into the darkness, her wand extended to light the way.

When she reached the top she peeked up over the ledge carefully, her breath coming a little fast. "I know you're here," she whispered. "You talked to the girl, didn't you?" She finished her climb, pulling herself up fully and retracting the ladder with a sharp gesture. She thought that maybe... maybe something up here to could help her case. Lucius was angry now, but he loved her. He loved Draco. She just needed to remind him how much...

She pulled the sheet off the old crib, covering her mouth with a sleeve to vent the dust she expected.

There was no dust.

Suspicion began to take over. She peeked down onto the tiny mattress... The manuscript was gone. It wasn't in it's hiding place.

Damn! She should have checked when that girl first mentioned that horrid name to her! It was obvious Hermione had been up there, now. As panic began to set in, she bolted across the small space to the stack of boxes, digging frantically through them.

No photo album.

No, no, no! This could not be happening. _She_ only ever bothered Narcissa- what would _she_ want with Hermione? But how else could the girl have found the album?

Her heart began to thud wildly beneath her ribcage, her earlier worry gone and replaced with a fresh, new concern. She didn't know back then, how powerful one like Franny could become. But now, after everything... she knew. She knew, and yet she didn't do anything about it. How could she have just left that thing in the attic, in her _home_!?

Maybe she had just been too weak to let go of it. Maybe she had been worried about what could happen if it fell into the wrong hands. Maybe she had just wanted to forget it was there...

Maybe she had wanted that bitch to suffer.

And now what? What was _she_ doing?

Narcissa ran, as fast as she could, away from the storage room and through the halls of the Manor, calling for her husband.


	46. Chapter 46

_A/N: To clarify, Draco dreamed of something he saw during the war: Bellatrix killing a muggle girl. In his dream, the girl was Hermione. Then, in his dream, Bellatrix became Franny Fortune suddenly. Some people sounded a little confused, so I wanted to make sure it was clear. _

**Chapter 46: The Thing That Wound The Music Box**

Draco and Hermione walked down the relatively empty streets of Diagon Alley- there were considerably less people there when the school year started and there were no children to buy brooms and textbooks for.

Hermione had the charmed bag hidden away in her purse- which had originally been _inside_ the bag. There's something most muggles would have trouble wrapping their minds around. Hermione shifted the heavy strap on her shoulder, wishing that the bag had been spelled to be a little lighter. She felt the weight of the few books, trinkets, and coins pulling down the bag.

"Do you want me to take that?" Draco asked, eyeing the hand that was rubbing at her shoulder, now.

"No, we just need to stop somewhere for a bit so I can add a few spells to this thing. Maybe breakfast?" She felt bad about that, actually- they didn't have money to be wasted eating out. Then again, they didn't have money to waste on another fancy hotel room either. She was glad she had been able to talk Draco into looking for a flat to rent... just in case their situation became a bit more permanent than he was hoping for.

"Sure," he answered, squinting into the sunny street. For a September day, it was particularly warm and bright out.

The two stopped at a small cafe, eating quickly while Hermione cast some complex spells on the bag. It could be difficult, mixing spells, and she wasn't 100% certain what kind of enlarging spell was used on the inside of the satchel. Eventually, she managed to lighten it to a feather-weight lump in her purse, and sighed with satisfaction. "There," she said happily.

Before they left, Hermione asked the witch running the counter if she had heard of any flats available in the area- and Hermione was pleasantly surprised at the affirmative answer. She grabbed Draco, and they made their way speedily to the location.

Draco, however, frowned as he looked up at the rental property in question. "No, way," he said flatly, marching on past the busy building.

"What? Draco, be reasonable..."

"I don't care how cheap it is, I don't care if you think you can get a discount, and I don't care if your friends "like me" now or not. Just... no."

Hermione rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue, trying to make her disapproval known even though she couldn't come up with any words she thought would sway her husband's opinion. Just as they were about to walk away, a familiar face appeared at the large colorful window of the shop, smiling and waving at them.

Draco groaned as Angelina Weasley came running out of the door, the bell dinging loudly on the quiet morning street.

"Hermione! …Draco... how are you?" she asked, her smile faltering a little as she took in the boy's solemn features. Draco was obviously not in a very good mood this morning, and Hermione tried not to roll her eyes again at his stubbornness.

"We're, uh... actually, we're looking to rent a place for a couple months," Hermione said, trying to sound confident and cheerful even as Draco scoffed.

"You know we have a place for rent, right? George and I moved out- we have a bigger apartment just down the street now." She pointed with her chin, nodding towards their right at some distant building Hermione couldn't see from this angle. "You can stay in the flat above the joke shop... although, why do you need to rent, anyways? Don't you live in a fabulous mansion, now?" She was only talking to Hermione, obviously ignoring Draco.

Hermione knew that most of her classmates, especially those who hadn't spent time with Draco lately, would probably still be wary of him. His current mood and scowling expression were not helping that situation, either.

"Not anymore. At the moment. Um...we'll... get back to you on that, Angelina," Hermione said, even as Draco stared daggers at her. They needed a place to stay! If he wouldn't stay there because of the Weasleys, then maybe she would get her ring removed and stay there by herself! He was so stubborn, it was driving her crazy.

They both really were in a foul mood, and as the day continued it only got worse. Hermione bought a few things she needed that hadn't been sent in their "elf care package," like toothbrushes and a second set of robes. Draco sulked. Hermione sent an owl to Harry and Ginny, letting them know she was going to visit later. Draco sulked. Hermione dragged them to a cheap pub for some lunch. Draco sulked.

"Look," she began, finally having enough, "I thought we talked about this! We're not blowing through the last of our money on somewhere expensive! Why can't we just stay above the Weasley's joke shop? They'd probably even let us stay for free!"

"I don't need charity. I've said that before. I certainly don't need _Weasley_ charity," Draco muttered, the last bit said under his breath but loud enough for Hermione to catch it.

"You... you're impossible!" she finally snapped. She was seeing red, now. She was exhausted from last night, tired of arguing with her spoiled husband, and sick of feeling like this was all her fault! It had been ONE day! Surely he could hold out longer than ONE day!? "What in the hell has gotten into you!?"

Draco's eyes narrowed, a very distantly familiar sneer coming to his face. She had almost forgotten that defensive look of pure venom he could adopt when things didn't go his way, when someone had the _audacity_ to challenge him. "Oh, I don't know, Hermione! Maybe it's because you've been dragging me around like a child, completely ignoring my opinions on the matter! I already told you what was going to happen, and I told you that I have things under control! I'm not worried, so why are you? Maybe you just don't trust me!?"

"I don't _trust_ you? Are you serious right now!?" she hissed, gripping her bag a little tighter in her fist. "If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't still be following you around! I could have our status changed by the ministry now, you know! I could be the Primary Provider in this relationship, and then we'd just move into my parent's home until we saved up enough money! But no, Draco, you're still relying on the belief that this is no big deal. You pretend to understand the consequences of our situation, but then you just take it out on me when you have to face them!" She could feel a speech coming on, but before she could utter any more of her lecture, Draco cut in.

"I can handle things, Hermione. I can get a job too, you know. You're panicking and making us act like beggars to your friends, when really there's nothing to lose your mind over! You'll have a job as a Metal Charmer, and I'll look at postings tomorrow. We have money, and we'll have money coming in. We can stay wherever we want, eat wherever we want, and buy whatever we want without bargaining like a house elf on grocery day!"

Hermione wasn't sure what his idiom meant, but she was sure she didn't like it. "There is nothing wrong with being careful. I think you don't have any realistic expectations about what it costs to live! You've never had to pay attention to your funds, so you have no idea how much everyone else saves and, yes, even _bargains_. This is not unusual! This is _normal_! _You_ are the one who is unusual!"

She was so angry... she didn't think she could stand much more of this conversation without hexing him. So, she did the best thing she could do to clear her head- she turned on her heel and walked away from him, bag in tow. He didn't follow.

Good. He could come find her when he was ready to apologize for being a git.

...

Narcissa had sent an owl to her son. Lucius was skeptical about her discovery, especially given the current situation of Draco's... estrangement. However, Narcissa could be more than a little convincing when she needed to be. This wasn't some petty squabble over inheritance! This was Draco's _life_ at stake!

Potentially. She actually had no idea how bad the situation could become, but Lucius had to know she was serious about the danger.

The owl, however, could take a long time. Owls can find people even without a permanent residence, of course, but not always in a timely manner. Additionally, there was only so much she could tell in a letter. Draco might not respond, might not listen to her. She had to find him. She had to do so today.

And so, Lucius had gone off to speak with several wizards with access to Inn records to help narrow down where their son was staying, or so he said, while Narcissa tracked a much more likely path: Hermione's friends. Surely she would go to them for help first?

Narcissa knew time was of the essence. She was deeply regretful of so many things: That she had kept _it_ in the house. That she had never told Draco the truth. That she hadn't realized sooner why Hermione knew that _damn_ name.

Yes. Time was short. And yet...

She stood on the stoop of Grimmauld Place, a hand poised to knock. She stood there for a good solid thirty seconds before she finally took a deep breath, steadied herself, and knocked sharply twice.

From inside she heard a loud cry- a baby's cry. Then, there was the sound of something crashing, a few unsavory words, a berating female voice, and finally, finally, the door opened.

There was the ginger girl who had so often been inside Narcissa's home. And now it was time to repay the favor. "Mrs... Mrs. Malfoy," the girl sputtered, brushing a stray lock of hair back out of her face. "Um, come on in. Sorry, it's a bit of a mess..."

The girl stepped back, ushering Narcissa in through the door. Though she would have preferred to have this conversation on the stoop and keep well out of what was once the Black family's home, Narcissa obliged. It would have been rude not to.

The front parlor, once covered in antique priceless wizarding relics and tasteful historic décor, was now a madhouse of bright greens, crisp whites, striped rugs, and baby toys.

"We, uh... have Teddy over," Mrs. Potter said, giving Narcissa an apologetic look. "Your nephew..."

"Great nephew. Yes, I know who he is, thank you very much," Narcissa quipped, tearing her eyes away from the wall that had been knocked out to remove Walburga Black's portrait. "I'm not here for idle chit-chat..." she began, drifting off as Harry Potter walked into the room, a crying child in his arms. He was bouncing, trying to quiet the wailing.

"Someone woke him from his nap," Potter explained, looking pointedly at Narcissa.

Narcissa avoided the urge to made a snappy comeback. "I'm here about my son," she said, getting straight to the point.

"Draco?" asked the Weasley girl, and it irked Narcissa more than a little that the two were on a first-name basis. "Why? Is he in trouble?" The red-head looked to her husband with a frown.

"Yes. Yes I believe he is, but I'm unable to speak with him about it..."

Potter snorted, shaking his head. "What are you here for, Narcissa? Is the big-bad metaphorical danger Hermione? You expect us to 'talk some sense into them?'"

Actually, that didn't seem like a bad idea. However... "That is neither here nor there. There is something much bigger I must discuss with my son." She was fairly sure Potter was being facetious, anyways, and wouldn't cooperate in breaking up the mismatched pair. "If he is hiding here, please- let me speak with him."

"Hiding here?" Mrs. Potter asked, frowning even deeper. "Why would he be here?"

"There's more to this story." Harry said to his wife quietly, nodding at Narcissa.

The older woman bristled. These children, speaking so disrespectfully to a guest. "Very well- he was sent out of the Manor by his father temporarily. I do not know where he and his wife went. I had assumed they would come here."

Potter snorted, again- a dreadful sound. "Right. There's no way Draco would come _here_ unless Hermione Petrified and dragged him."

"Oh, you don't know that!" his wife chided, a hand on her hip. "I think he rather likes us, now!"

Potter blanched. So did Narcissa.

"...but," the girl continued, looking sheepish, "no, he's not, uh, actually here."

Narcissa sighed. What a waste of time! Where could she look next? "Please, if you see him, tell him he needs to come home and speak with me. It's a matter of utmost importance. I am not exaggerating when I say it is a matter of life or death."

...

Hermione's angry footsteps carried her among the twisting buildings of Diagon Alley, past the sparse shoppers and a few delivery boys. She almost felt like there was an invisible string attached to her navel, and it was pulling her along as her brain fogged over with drowning thoughts of what she would say after Draco came after her. After he _apologized_.

She walked past Gabol and Gapes. Past Magical Mengerie. Past Gringotts... and finally, she began to pay attention to her surroundings again.

She was standing close to a window, blacked with soot. The exterior of the building matched, looking very much like a burnt-up match... except for the "open" sign on the door. She gazed about her, taking in the similar disrepair of the majority of buildings. Knockturn Alley.

She turned around, intending to walk back the way she came. She wasn't frightened of the dark objects for sale- she was always able to objectively research and understand such things, provided they weren't actively being used to try and kill her. Dark objects were _tools_, and they were only dangerous if someone was stupid enough to _use_ them.

No, what frightened her were the particular wizards that tended to travel to Knockturn Alley. Not that there seemed to be anyone around, but she was certain it would be best to avoid the area when she was walking alone. Most of the Death Eaters had finally been captured, but with her track record on being kidnapped she figured it couldn't hurt to be cautious.

And then... she noticed something, barely visible through the dark window.

She had never seen the music box before, never read about it in any book... but for some reason, it called to her. What was such a delicate item doing in the window of a dark magic shop? Every muscle in her body longed to hold it, to play the music. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she wondered why she stepped into that shop. It was almost like her feet had a mind of their own. One minute, she was outside looking down at the little golden Veela poised delicately inside the music box, and the next minute she was inside, a bell ringing to alert the owner he had a customer.

No shopkeeper came.

Hermione watched, transfixed, and her hands reached out, seemingly of their own accord. She watched as they pulled out the magicked satchel, and placed the music box inside. She was like a bystander as her feet took her back outside the building...

She shook her head, feeling shocked. No! What was this!? Had she just _stolen_ that music box!? _What_ had made her do that? Because something had certainly _made_ her do that.

She reached into the satchel, procuring the music box. Before she could turn back to the store to return it, the box started to play music.

Odd. She hadn't turned the key. It was like being in the satchel had wound it up, somehow...

Music started to play, and her feet stuck to the ground firmly. She stared at the box, slowly lifting the lid to look at the Veela inside. In the real world, Veela had the power to make men lose their minds. They had the power to brainwash. Hermione didn't think the imagery was a coincidence.

Then, something even stranger happened. Her bag... it started to get heavy again. Really heavy. She felt her right shoulder wilt, her knees buckling as she was driven to the ground, even as she stared, transfixed, at the dancing dark object.

What had she just been thinking? About dark objects only being dangerous if you were stupid enough to use them?

But she didn't think this little trinket could have forced her to walk in and steal it... it only seemed to have power once it was wound-up. So why did she touch it in the first place? What was going on?

Her bag had reached the ground, now, the strap still digging into her shoulder. She thought maybe her spell had worn off- which didn't make any sense at all with that kind of charm- but then, the bag began to _move_.

Hermione gulped, trying to control her breathing and focusing on one thing, and one thing only: taking her wand out of her pocket. She moved her right hand, which consequently brought it closer to the bag, too.

The bag lurched, and _something slithered out of it._

It was... a hand. A cold, inhuman hand that grabbed her wrist in a painfully tight grip. That was it- Hermione finally found her voice, and screamed.

...

Draco read the letter from his mother with a casual detachment. She was trying to get him to come home. She even claimed his father wanted him home, that there was some big emergency. Draco didn't buy it- his father wouldn't cave that easily or quickly. His mother probably planned on dragging him home and then pleading for his father to let him stay, and he had too much pride for that. She should, too.

He was _certain_ she was exaggerating when she called it a "matter of life and death." The Death Eaters were all rounded up- what possible threat was left?

No, he would wait until his father called on him, personally. No ploy his mother could contrive would fix this mess.

He wrote back to his mother, visiting the Owl Emporium to send his message, which he hoped accurately conveyed his feelings while still sounding polite. He didn't want to make his mother cry... _again_.

Luckily he had a little change to pay for the owl service- Hermione had run off with most of their cash.

Hermione. She was so hot-headed it drove him mad! Why was it such a problem that he wanted to spend his own bloody galleons? Was it because he wouldn't stay with her friends? Was that an insult to her, somehow?

Probably. He should probably apologize for that, at least. It didn't change his opinion on the matter, but he didn't really mean to imply anything bad about the Weasleys. Not in front of his wife, anyways.

Draco sighed, and resigned himself to searching the empty walkways of the wizard shopping area for Hermione. It might take awhile, especially if she was pissed off enough to hide out somewhere. She wouldn't have just left, would she? Where would she go? The two would have to stay in the same place at night, fight or no fight.

He walked for awhile, peeking in a few windows here and there in places he thought she might visit, like the bookstore and apothecary. When he had walked from one end of the street to another, he started to get a very strange feeling. Either she left, or...

He walked past Gringotts bank and peeked down the old familiar streets of Knockturn Alley. He didn't think it was really her scene, but then again _she_ was the one who had read "_Secret__s__ of the Darkest Arts_." Maybe she liked researching the dark arts for defensive purposes. Maybe it was another of her hobbies.

He turned down the street, walking swiftly. There was always the chance he would bump into someone... unsavory, here. He rather hoped he was wrong about his wife's whereabouts.

Then, he saw something near a shop that sold poison candles and another that sold shrunken heads. It was her... at least, he thought so. Someone was keeling down on the street, quietly facing away from him.

He broke into a light jog, hurrying beside the figure that was, indeed, Hermione.

"Hermione?" he asked cautiously, despite seeing clearly that it was her. It just seemed... so strange, sitting in the middle of the street like that. In _Knockturn Alley_, no less.

And then, just as he had walked to the front and crouched down level with her, she stood up. Quickly. She blinked, looking around, then looked back at Draco.

"Draco?" she asked, her confusion evident. "What are you doing down there?"

"What am _I._.. what happened to you?" he asked, standing up and brushing off the front of his robes. There were wet fall leaves covering the ground, and they stuck fast to the fabric of his clothes.

Hermione shook her head, looking a little bewildered. "I don't know," she finally admitted, giving Draco a grim look. "I really don't."

Draco swept the area quickly with a gaze, looking for any sign of movement. There didn't seem to be anybody around- not even in the shops, though that wasn't unusual. Shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley were not usually very careful with their wares, since it wasn't like anyone would be foolish enough to _steal_ a dangerous dark artifact.

So, then. Who Obliviated Hermione? Or Confunded her? Because clearly, some magic was at work, here.

"Come on." Draco said firmly, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her. "Let's get out of here."

"And go _where_?" Hermione asked. Oh, good. At least she managed to remember they were _homeless_.

...

_A/N: PS I'm serious about this dating sim game, too. I've been practicing different coding techniques every day after work for two weeks, and I think I know enough to start working on it. I've gotten as far as you choosing your own house, gender, eye color, and hair color. I know how to have those selections affect the gameplay and branch the story out. I've written the character introductions for the Slytherin and Gryffindor choices, too. The goal will be to find a date to the yule ball! I'm so excited- it's like interactive fanfiction! Any suggestions for something you'd really like to have your character do?_


	47. Chapter 47

_A/N: Please let me know if you notice any glaring mistakes!_

**Chapter 47: The Visitor **

"There you two are! Do you know how worried I've been? You're grounded!"

The Weaslette's voice was rather grating on Draco's ears. He was not in the mood for her joking. "Just, hurry up and let us inside!" he snapped, his arm still wrapped firmly around Hermione despite her assurances that she was fine. She _wasn't_ fine. When a witch loses a good chunk of time in her memory, it is certainly not _fine_.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, all humor suddenly gone.

"I don't know," Draco answered as the two made their way into the front room, Draco not stopping until Hermione was sitting down on the couch. She looked a little miffed at his continued over-concern, but Draco didn't care. _Something_ had happened. "I think she's been Obliviated," Draco informed the worried friend, who quickly sat down across from the couple in a modern black leather chair.

Hermione shook her head. "No... I mean... I guess I've never been Obliviated, personally. I wouldn't know what it feels like."

"If you were trying to find out if someone had had their memory tampered with, what would you ask?" Ginny tried, giving Draco a pointed look. Hermione was stubborn, but if there was one thing she relied on it was her own intelligence. Ginny was just a little too good at knowing how to use that.

Hermione frowned. "Well, I suppose I would ask if they remembered everything..."

"That's stupid," Draco informed her, and quickly continued at a frustrated look from both of the girls. "Er, I mean, how would you _know_ if you remember something if you, well, don't? Why don't you ask 'How the hell did I end up sitting in the middle of the street for a good half hour?'"

"You're missing time?" Ginny asked, her concern obviously growing in her tone. Good. At least the Weaslette understood Draco's concern.

"Well, I guess... I mean, I assumed I had just zoned out a bit. We had a row, so I was just walking and... thinking."

"Oh, a row, huh?" Ginny muttered, giving Draco yet another look. She seemed to understand that there were better things to spend their time on than prying, however, as she continued, "What are other signs of being Obliviated?"

"Well..." Hermione said, thinking. "Uh... Ah! A bitter taste, in your mouth! I don't have that! See, Draco, I told you I'm fine!"

Draco frowned. He was not convinced. She was acting strange... distracted.

Ginny sighed. "Harry went to bring Teddy home- when he get's back, I'm sure he'll agree with me. You two are staying here. At least-" she said hurriedly, holding up a hand to stop Draco's protests, "until Hermione is feeling better. Tonight. And by the way, Draco, your mum's out looking for you."

"She came here?" Draco questioned, putting an arm around Hermione again. He had a bigger problem right now- he didn't need to deal with his mother's scheming.

"Yeah... it sounded serious, Draco. I mean, for her to come to us..." Ginny shook her head. "As much as I think she _loves me_, it's still something of a surprise, don't you think?"

Draco had to agree with that, at least.

…

They spent the night at Harry and Ginny's place. Then they had breakfast, prepared by Kreacher. Then they left to have one more crack at looking for a flat to rent.

Hermione was feeling much better than the previous night. It was true- she had been a little disoriented, but she was certain it wasn't a big deal. She remembered turning down Knockturn Alley... and then, she was sitting in the street. Maybe she had tripped? Hit her head?

At least Draco's concern for her had one bonus: He finally agreed to rent the flat over Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Maybe he just didn't want to risk her walking around alone again after a fight. Or maybe, as Hermione pointed out, he agreed that it was the best place for them to stay to keep hidden from his mother for while. Draco seemed like he wasn't in a hurry to have to explain to his mother why he couldn't come home at her request. Certainly no one would expect them to live _there. _They just needed a little time apart from the older Malfoy's, a little time away from the struggle of living with people who didn't approve of their relationship..

Angelina and George gave them some furniture, too, albeit with a few jokes from George that almost caused a fight between the two boys.

Hermione got the full-time position with Mr. Wright's shop, and could official be called a "Novice Metal Charmer." It was hard to accept being considered a "novice" at something she had been working so hard at for so many months, but she had come to understand that it could take years to master the skills involved. She could make some simpler objects and she could cast charms on prepared trinkets without any difficultly. However, she had yet to master the Golden Snitch or even a Remembral. It was a little embarrassing for "the brightest witch of her age," but Mr. Wright assured her that she was coming along just fine in her studies.

Draco looked for work, though Hermione had a feeling his search was a little half-hearted. She didn't dare say this out loud, though- he would definitely be offended.

As the weeks went by, Draco continued to get letters from his mother, and they were growing increasingly cryptic. Hermione manged to get him to reply every once in a while, but Draco insisted that unless Lucius himself owled him, there was no point in returning to the Manor.

And Lucius never did.

Hermione wondered if Draco would just _ask_ his father if there was, indeed, urgent business, if his father would respond. She suggested that once, but Draco was too proud to dignify it with an answer. She had rolled her eyes at him, but as time past they both just started to get used to his mother's badgering via owl. She couldn't have figured out where they lived, or she would have visited by then, which meant that Hermione's friends were keeping quiet.

Hermione was in charge of finances. That was set right from the start, when she started carrying the pouch. Draco really didn't understand the cost of things, and until he found a job he really had no choice but to agree. He agreed begrudgingly, but still...

And then came the day when the Marriage Law was repealed, exactly three weeks into their strange "elopement."

It was rather amazing, in that it... wasn't. Hermione was so tired after work, that she nearly forgot about it entirely, if it wasn't for Draco handing her the letter over dinner. He had looked a little wary... like he half expected her to say she was going to divorce him, again.

They were past that. Hermione wanted to stay with him, even if it meant living above the joke shop forever.

Draco had, obviously, been in a rather sour mood since he started looking for work, but Hermione still enjoyed their time together. She had enough disposable income to invest in a small cauldron, though she was still miffed that Narcissa had refused to send her trunk, which had a perfectly fine copper cauldron inside. Narcissa appeared to be playing hardball, now: She wanted them to come to the Manor themselves to get their things.

Draco still refused. Hermione was starting to suspect that his feelings on the subject were more complicated than he let on. He didn't want to see his mother, because then he would have to see his father too. And though he would never admit it, his feelings were hurt. Lucius had gone weeks without contacting him, without asking him to return. Hermione couldn't understand how a father could let their son suffer for so long, wondering if they were even wanted... what did the man hope to accomplish? He had to know trying to control his son with money was a lost cause by now! Draco wasn't crawling back, and Lucius wasn't asking him too. Maybe they were both just too stubborn.

She and Draco had started brewing as more than just a way to pass the time- they made sure they had all the basic potions every wizarding home should have in case of emergencies. Common things, like pepper-up potion, blood-replenishing potion, and sleeping draught. It definitely helped ease some of the tension that had invaded their relationship since being kicked out of the Manor. It was nice to have something to do together again, especially since she was so busy during the week that they hardly had any time together.

Hermione shut her book with a loud "thump," having finishing with her Metal Charming studies for the night. Draco jumped a little at the noise, cursing as he cleaned up some ink he spilled. He was writing yet another, "Mother, please, just stop" letter. It was three days after the end of the Marriage Law, and they had yet to get the ring-removal kit back from his mother or a letter from his father asking to talk to him. It was getting a little discouraging at this point.

"Let's go get ice cream!" Hermione declared cheerfully, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"It's eleven at night, and you want to... eat ice cream."

"Yes. Well, what do you want to do?"

Draco shook his head, looking mystified. "Maybe go to the pub, like a normal adult?"

Hermione laughed lightly, taking a seat near Draco at their tiny round kitchen table. "Somehow I can't imagine you at a pub."

"What? Why not?"

"You're more of a... lounge guy. Private lounge."

"_Lounge_? I can be a pub guy if I want to be a pub guy!"

Hermione tried to cover her smirk with the "Advanced Charms and You" book she was still holding, but of course he saw right through that.

"That's it! We're going to the Leaky Cauldron!"

…

The dining room was so quiet, that every tiny clink of silverware on their plates seemed to echo throughout the hall. Narcissa swore she could almost hear the hidden house elves _breathing_.

Narcissa sighed, loudly, for the third time that evening, eliciting no response what-so-ever from her husband. She had told him, tine and time again, that he was the only one who could bring their son home. She had the strangest feeling that he _knew_ where Draco was- Lucius had his connections. If he really wanted to find their son and bring him home, he would have. But as time had past, it seemed that Lucius had started to doubt the seriousness of her alarm.

Lucius knew the whole story. He knew why Narcissa was worried. His pride, however, was very much in the way. He wouldn't let "the boy" return until he left "that Granger girl."

She had thought that he would act after the Marriage Law ended, but now she was beginning to lose that hope.

Narcissa didn't know what to think- she was certain there was danger waiting for her son, and every day that danger seemed to loom closer. _Why_ couldn't she make anyone feel the urgency in this situation!?

Narcissa dropped her fork to her plate a little loudly, and Lucius looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"What is it?" he asked, and Narcissa fought the urge to laugh. She was supposed to pretend everything was fine, because Lucius had had his final word. The man was so stubborn!

She pointedly looked away from him, speaking to the air. "I'm not feeling particularly hungry this evening," she quipped, pushing back her chair. "I'm going to go write a letter," she finished, not bothering to say whom she was writing to. Lucius knew.

…

This time, the Manor was on fire. Just a little bit.

Draco was sitting in the back garden. Just... sitting there. He was facing a wing of the castle that was rarely used- specifically at a small patio he had never remembered seeing before... which was currently the part of the Manor that was on fire.

There were flashes of light from inside the room- someone was still in there, having a duel, it seemed. There was screaming. Women screaming.

Draco managed to stand up, but he found he couldn't move forward. He couldn't investigate, or help, or even turn away. He just watched the smoke swirling into the gloomy gray sky.

Then, suddenly, he could hear. He could hear as if he were standing in the room, with the people fighting.

"You conniving mudblood bitch!" came a voice so contorted with rage, Draco couldn't even imagine who it belonged to.

"We did say we would pick someone who was already dying."

"I _trusted_ you..."

There was the crackle of flame, blocking out some of the words. Draco struggled to hear, though it should have been impossible at this distance, anyways. It was like he had an extendable ear, or something.

"I won't... I won't destroy it. You _deserve_ this. You will _live_ with this."

…

Draco woke in a cold sweat. The dream had been bad- not as bad as the nightmare with the muggle murdered on his front lawn. He couldn't put his finger on just what it was about the dream that had disturbed him so much, but his heart was racing and he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of foreboding. Like something was waiting, claws extended, to attack him from the shadows of the room at any moment.

Hermione wasn't up yet. Draco decided that while he couldn't go back to sleep, he would at least try to be quiet. If he woke her, she would ask all kinda of nosy questions.

This hadn't been the first time he had had bad dreams since moving into the flat. He had them about three times a week- always vivid, always cryptic. He figured that was part of the package, just like right after the war. Be a Death Eater = have bad dreams. It wasn't hard to figure out where they all came from.

But why now? Why was he suddenly having so much trouble sleeping? Was it his new living situation with Hermione? Was he feeling guilty about ignoring his mother? Was he depressed about how goddamn _poor_ he was?

Probably, perhaps, and maybe.

Draco went to make a cup of coffee. He looked over yesterday's Prophet, sighing at the lack of job postings. Too many graduates from Hogwarts last year, what with the double-numbers of seventh years trying to make up for the lost time in the war. The wizarding world was not a very big place- if you didn't have a solid apprenticeship in the summer, then you probably didn't have a job in the fall.

And Draco had quit his apprenticeship.

He really could kick himself for that, now.

To make it worse, he had turned down several positions he had felt too high and mighty for at the start of his job-hunt... all of which were filled by now. Waiter. Groundskeeper. Cashier.

At this point, he would take any of those jobs over watching Hermione go to work day after day, coming home late, studying later... always asking about his day as if he had done anything other than sit around and _mope_. That's right. Draco Malfoy had become a... a _moper_.

Well, Halloween was just around the corner, and shops always hired for the holidays around then. He'd find something, come hell or high water. He _had_ to.

He was just finished pouring his brewed coffee into his mug when, inexplicably, someone knocked at the door.

At four in the morning. On a Monday.

Draco still hadn't shaken that bad feeling left over from his dream. The door was downstairs, the main entrance to the joke shop. He could hear the knocking clearly, but it could be easy enough to ignore, too. He pulled out his wand, just in case, holding it loosely at his side as he tried to decide what to do.

It wasn't normal, for someone to call at this hour, was it? So the bad feeling in his gut was warranted... should he wake Hermione?

No. He should just ignore it. Let them come back at a decent hour.

The knocking resounded once again, sharply but not urgently. It was insane, but Draco swore there was almost something familiar about the way the person knocked... very controlled but demanding at the same time. That was stupid... you couldn't tell who a person was by the way they _knocked_ at a door.

Or could you?

No, no it couldn't be.

Draco changed his mind abruptly and started walking down the steep narrow staircase of the joke shop. He walked quickly but cautiously, straining to see out the front window as he went. It was a bad angle- he couldn't make out who was at the door that way.

But somehow, he knew who it was.

He reached the door, finally. It had gone silent... maybe the visitor had left? Doubtful. Not if he knew Draco was inside. Why would _he_ come all this way unless he intended to talk?

Draco opened the door with a fast, jerky motion. He was still gripping his wand... just in case.

Standing on the front stoop, his chin held high and his expression more than a little disgusted, was Lucius Malfoy. Somehow, Draco was not the least bit surprised.

…...

"I knew when I turned you out you wouldn't be able to stay in a place like the Manor... but _here_, Draco? This was the best you could do?" Lucius asked, though it was clearly more of a "mock" than a "question."

Draco tried to play it cool, continuing to drink his morning (early, _early_ morning) coffee. His father looked like it caused him pain to even _breath_ in the small room above the Weasley's shop, his eyes straying disdainfully over their kitchen appliances as he spoke. "It was Hermione's idea," he answered.

"Of course it was," Lucius sneered, shaking his head.

Draco couldn't, for the life of him, explain why he was suddenly feeling extremely defensive about their little flat, but a small flicker of anger flashed through his eyes at his father's words. Hadn't he felt the exact same about the place before? Maybe it was all the work they had put into making the place livable- their little corner brewing station, their oven Hermione had upgraded so it was self-cleaning, the cheerful painting of a sunflower they had found on sale that Hermione had said would "brighten up the place," the Potion shelf Draco had spent an entire day trying to put together, the few pictures Hermione had managed to take of the two of them on her days off, charmed to stick to the fridge...

He worked to control his inexplicable frustration. He couldn't let his father know he was getting to him.

"Why did you come here?" He asked the obvious question, knowing it couldn't possibly be because he had decided to accept Draco's choices and welcome him back home with open arms. Lucius wasn't a man who changed his mind that easily. Or _at all,_ actually.

Would he try to talk him into leaving Hermione again? Probably.

Lucius looked like he had eaten ice cream too fast, suddenly touching his temple as he closed his eyes and screwed up his face. He seemed almost to be in pain, and Draco was more than a little shocked to see something close to... emotion... in the man's expression. When Lucius was angry, he was usually very good at maintaining his composure. So maybe it wasn't anger flashing in the older man's eyes.

"I have decided," he began, his face pinching up enough for Draco to conclude that Lucius had had little choice in the 'decision,' "that we all need to have a talk. Your mother insists that you are in danger, and while I'm sure you can handle yourself I feel that this whole charade has gone on long enough." On the word "charade," he waved his hands about, clearly indicating the apartment.

"So... you're saying you want us to come home?"

A small tick started in the corner of Lucius' left eye that was more than a little disconcerting. "I want _you_ to come home. Unfortunately, it seems like we will have no choice but to discuss certain... compromises to my wishes."

Compromise? Draco almost fell out of his chair.

"If I have to take one more silent dinner from your mother it will be the death of me. Besides," he straightened marginally, brushing at the sleeves of his robe absentmindedly, "your mother wants to talk to you. About that book the girl stole from our home."

Book? This was about the book? The dark magic book or the photo album? His mother had acted awfully strange when Hermione had mentioned the name "Franny Fortune..." He assumed it was the album his father was referring to, since it had that strange name in it.

"She didn't steal it. A ghost gave it to her. It doesn't have my mother's name on it, now does it?" Draco quipped, but before his father could take offense he quickly added, "But I'm sure she would happily give it back if it'll appease mother. Hermione's not the one trying to create a battle, here."

Lucius nodded. "Very good. It's not safe, you know. Your mother is right about that. It's a very dark object, and while I'm not sure what it's capable of, I do want to keep your mother happy. Which means bringing back that book and keeping you safe."

Which might also mean a chance for Draco to get back his inheritance and not lose Hermione in the process? Had his mother really worn down Lucius this much? And how was a photo album a dark object?

Draco was feeling more confused than ever, but since his father had come in person he really didn't have a choice. He would listen to him, and hope for the best.

"Please wait here- I'll get Hermione and we'll go to the manor together," Draco said, finishing the last of his coffee and walking the whole two steps to the bedroom in order to wake up his wife.

…

Hermione's dream was... pleasant. It was extremely confusing, sure, but it wasn't any kind of nightmare. Except...

Except for the strange black cloud. She was at Hogwarts, sitting in the Great Hall. She didn't know anyone in the room, but it was still the same familiar space. Students were laughing, eating, opening letters... it was all how it should be.

However, across the room, there was a swirling blackness settled over the heads of students, below the floating candles. It didn't seem like anyone else noticed it- only Hermione. It made her stomach drop, looking at the thing. It was almost like it wasn't there, not really. It was more like... like a warning, just for her.

Under the cloud sat some students that she did, in fact, recognize. As soon as she realized this, she was no longer sitting at the Gryffindor table. In an instant, she was transported to the Slytherin table, sitting next to the group of future murderers and Death Eaters.

Regulus Black. Bellatrix Black. Narcissa Black. Lucius Malfoy. Severus Snape. Evan Rosier. Rabastan Lestrange. Charles Avery. Several others whose faces she recognized, but whose names she never knew.

"Well, is there room for one more?" asked a low, smooth female voice from behind Hermione. She turned, and saw Franny Fortune standing behind her. Rabastan moved down a little away from Hermione, making room for the girl. Narcissa was seated just across the table, and she sent Fortune a conspiratorial grin.

"About time you came down to eat! What were you doing up there, brewing another love potion?"

Fortune laughed, reaching across the table to slap play fully at Narcissa's hand when she reached out to grab more biscuits. "You need to stop spreading lies and rumors, Cissa! You'll ruin my reputation!"

Both of the girls looked fairly young... maybe third years? Fourth?

Lucius, looking much older and sitting next to Narcissa, rolled his eyes in a way that was very un-Lucius-like. Apparently he was not fond of the way the girls suddenly started to chatter, Narcissa pulling out a catalog that had been delivered to her and discussing what to order to wear on the Hogsmeade trip next month.

The cloud was still above, still swirling ominously.

Hermione looked up at it briefly, and when she looked down again she was seated in the Potions classroom. Professor Slughorn, looking much younger and thinner, was explaining the complexities of the Felix Felicis Potion. Hermione looked to the row below her, and sure enough she was seated right behind Narcissa and Franny. The two had a book open between them, standing it up so Slughorn couldn't see that it was definitely not open to the correct page.

The girls were whispering behind the book. Hermione leaned close, trying to see what they were looking at... veratiserum? How advanced were these girls, anyways?

"The squill bulb must be juiced, next, not grated," chimed a female voice from the front row, answering a question Slughorn had asked that the Slytherin girls hadn't bothered to listen to. The girl was wearing Gryffindor robes, and all Hermione could see from their row near the back was her long auburn hair. The two Slytherin girls giggled and started mocking her silently, Narcissa rolling her eyes and inspecting her nails while whispering, "That tasteless muggle-born can juice squill bulbs until the end of the Quidditch season- It won't help her find a date for the Yule Ball."

"Good marks won't find her a good husband- she'll probably run off with some muggle after school and make this whole exercise in futility apparent," Franny remarked back, causing both girls to giggle loud enough to earn an admonishment from Slughorn.

Hermione glanced up. The black cloud had followed them, and it was circling a little tighter than before.

She looked down again. This time, they were in a bedroom, almost identical to the Gryffindor girl's dorms, but decorated in greens and somehow projecting a gloomier atmosphere. The thin windows let in filtered green light from the lake, wavering on the wall opposite the bed. Narcissa stood up from her four-poster, walking quietly over to the door before casting a locking charm.

"You're sure no one will come in anyways?" Narcissa asked, looking doubtfully at the door.

"They're all at dinner- don't get nervous on me now Cissa!"

"But if we're caught... I mean, this book is from the restricted section. That must mean it's, well, against the rules to use it."

Franny shook her head, smirking. "If it wasn't against the rules, then everyone would be doing it, right? Come on- since when are you scared of learning something useful just because some teachers think it's "inappropriate?""

Hermione crept closer, until she could see the outside cover of the book Franny clutched in her hands. "Mind Control and The Rights of The Pure." Hermione shivered. She was growing more and more certain that she wouldn't have liked Franny very much... no wonder she had gotten such a bad feeling from the girl's silent ghost.

The cloud was much, much darker now. Hermione felt the overpowering urge to back away from it, to stay far from the darkness that was growing closer and closer to Franny Fortune. It was only inches above her head, now, and somehow Hermione felt like the cloud was... hungry. It was anticipating devouring her completely.

The scene changed. The weather was hot and sticky, and with the bedroom door closed tightly the room was stifling. They were in a house that Hermione didn't recognize, in a small bedroom with white painted walls and a single window with the curtains drawn tight. Franny and Narcissa sat facing each other on the bed, wands resting in their laps as they peered over a book. They were speaking in hushed voices, but it was clear from their tones that they were having an argument.

"I'm not suggesting we _do_ it!" Franny insisted in a hissing low voice. "I was just theorizing... I mean, think about if it worked! Think about what we could accomplish!"

"I don't think it's right," Narcissa insisted, sitting back a little away from her friend. "Hurting innocent people..."

"I'm not suggesting we go and attack anyone! Just... well, think about it. What if we just used a muggle? You know, maybe someone dying already. That wouldn't be so bad, right?"

Hermione felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. Were the girl's contemplating _murder_? The black cloud was circling Franny now, growing tighter, and Hermione was now certain that it wasn't really there. It was a miasma of the girl's own cruel intentions, or maybe it was a projection of the dark turn the dream was taking.

"No. I'm really not interested. It won't work, anyways! That's just some dumb book you found in the library- it'll be just like "Mind Control" all over again. Nothing in that book was worth the paper it was printed on."

"This is different!" Franny insisted, holding the book up proudly, smirking as if she were the cleverest witch in the world for finding it. "This book is documented! I still can't believe they would keep a copy at school, but they did!"

_Secret__s__ of the Darkest Ar_t. Why was Hermione not surprised?

"But... if it really is that book... why would they keep it in the library. It's just... it must be fake!"

Franny grinned widely. She seemed positively giddy at her answer, and could no longer keep her voice down. "But that's the beauty of it, Cissa! Didn't I tell you there was nothing to be gained from listening to the disapproval of teachers? I snuck this out of Dumbledor's office! Don't ask me how I did it." She raised a finger over her lips. "Just know that I'm not lying to you, Cissa. This is the real deal, and I stole it from the most powerful wizard in the world."

Franny must have been exemplary at Unlocking and Disillusionment charms, to accomplish such a thing. Certainly Dumbledore's office had had some defenses of it's own, too? No doubt all of the dark reading material Franny seemed to be drawn to had something to do with her talented sneakiness.

Narcissa didn't seem to know what to say about that, and Hermione found that even if she tried, she wasn't able to speak. Not in the dream. She couldn't properly express her horror at the ideas going through Franny Fortune's mind.

"Let's do it, Cissa. Let's make a Horcrux."

...

_A/N: Yay! My tablet came, and I'm hard at work drawing for the game. I LOVE the idea of one reviewer to have characters cast joke spells on each other... I think maybe that will be a special task to get in the good graces of one student in exchange for having the target hate you. I think Pansy Parkinson, for example, could ask you to play a trick on one of the Gryffindors for a big relationship boost with her. I'm basically writing an entire fanfic for this FOUR TIMES for every house. It's gonna take foreeeeever. If you're interested, keep an eye on my profile. I'll post updates on my work. I know it's not really "fanfiction," but at the same time it totally is. Interactive fanfiction._


	48. Chapter 48

_AN: Getting near the end, here! Also, have I mentioned, I love you guys? Over 500 reviews! WOOT!_

**Chapter 48: The One Who Loves Him the Most**

Hermione woke with a start as Draco shut the door gently. She wasn't sure if it was the sound that had waken her, or the shock of the dream... it had seemed so vivid, like looking into a pensieve.

"Sorry," Draco whispered, kneeling on the bed and leaning over to touch her arm, "it's way too early for decent human beings to be up, I know, but we have a visitor."

"...a not decent human being, then?" Hermione grumbled. She still had a fuzzy feeling in her brain, as if she could easily drift back to sleep if only she were left alone...

Draco chuckled a little. "Depends on your perspective. It's my father."

Hermione shot upright, all thoughts of falling back asleep banished in an instant. "Your father? Lucius Malfoy? Lucius Malfoy is sitting in our flat?"

"It would appear so."

Hermione's mouth gaped like a fish as she fought for words. She wanted to tell Draco to send him away... but wasn't this what they had been waiting for? Something at the back of her mind was telling her to just go with it. They wanted to be back in the Manor, right? Maybe Lucius was here to make things right with his son.

Maybe.

Either way, she gave up on protesting, instead bolting out of bed and digging through her untidy closet for clean robes to wear. She'd just been so busy lately- their bedroom was, in all honesty, a complete and total wreck. Draco was home during the day, but of course Draco had never cleaned anything in his entire life.

Finally finding something suitable, she cast a few quick charms to straighten out the wrinkles and dressed hurriedly. Her hair, while still too short for her liking, had grown the few extra inches necessary for her to clip it up and out of the way, which fortunately took little to no time to accomplish.

Should she tell Draco about her dream? That same little voice inside her said no. Not now. It was just a dream, anyways, right? She wasn't some prophet, no one was around to cast legilimens on her, and she didn't even _own_ a pensieve. Just a dream.

...

Lucius brought them to the mansion, never speaking a word directly to Hermione but never openly forbidding her from coming, either. Draco decided that was a good sign. His father had said he was ready to compromise... maybe he had actually _meant_ that.

Draco could tell they were heading to his mother's study. By that time, the sun was peaking through the windows, and he knew his mother was always one to wake up early. She was probably eating breakfast at the small table by the windows, watching the morning sun light up the back garden.

With a pang, Draco realized just how much he had missed his mother. He had gone much longer periods, of course, without seeing either of his parents in his years at Hogwarts. But this time he had felt so much farther from her, somehow. He also felt like a horrible son for completely ignoring the vast majority of her letters to him.

Sure enough, when they entered the dim morning-lit room, his mother was sitting exactly as he had pictured her, sipping on tea with a plate of sausage and eggs in front of her. She didn't seem very hungry- her knife and fork sat clean by the untouched meal as she looked out the window.

Lucius made a small sound at the back of his throat to get her attention, and when she looked up she froze, her mouth gaping as if she had seen a ghost. Her eyes widened, and the arm holding up her teacup fell with such an indelicate "thud" to the table that some tea sloshed over the edge and onto her hand. She ignored it, standing up and walking quickly over. She set a path straight for Draco, and didn't stop until she ran right into him, nearly knocking him over as she hugged him.

"Oh, my boy! My baby is back!" She stepped back, looking over him as her eyes grew disturbingly wet. "Lucius, you listened to me!" She moved quickly to her husband, taking his hand in both of hers.

"Of course. I always listen to you," Lucius muttered. He still seemed reluctant about the whole thing, but the corners of his mouth drew up at his wife's praise. Draco was pretty impressed- he didn't think his mother would _actually_ be able to talk his father into changing his mind. Not about this.

"Oh, come on then. We have a lot of things to discuss." Narcissa said finally, wiping at her eyes quickly and leading the way back to her table and her untouched breakfast. She sat down, and Lucius took the lone seat across from her. With a wave of her wand she pulled the sofa from across the room closer to the table for Draco and, presumably, Hermione.

Draco grabbed Hermione's hand reassuringly. She looked a little... spooked. She was giving his mother a long studying look, and didn't even seem to register when Draco touched her. She was tense- that much was obvious.

"I didn't feel comfortable putting this in a letter- what if it was intercepted? I needed to talk to you, here, Draco. There are things I've kept secret from you... for your own safety. There are some things I didn't think you needed to know." She glanced up at Lucius, and he nodded at her to continue. She took a deep breath, then seemed to suddenly loose her nerve. "Would any of you care to eat something, first? It's strange, I know, having Lucius drag you from your beds so early in the morning." She flashed her husband a very mild chastising look, which was promptly ignored.

Draco reached into Hermione's bag- it wasn't the charmed kind, but they only brought one thing with them, anyways. "There's no reason to put this off, mother." He pulled out the photo album. "Why is this thing so dangerous? I assume that's what your letters we're about- this old thing. Were you afraid we'd find out something? Or is it cursed, somehow?"

"It's a Horcrux."

It wasn't his mother who had spoken. He looked down at his wife with wide eyes, then quickly back to his mother for confirmation. The blond middle-aged woman nodded, her eyes downcast as if she were ashamed. Why would she be ashamed?

Unless _she_ made the horcrux. But that was impossible. He knew what was required, and he didn't think his mother had it in her. She wasn't... she wasn't _corrupted_ like that.

Before they could ask anything else there was the "crack" of apparition, and a house elf appeared in the middle of the room, just to the left of Draco and Hermione's sofa.

"Master, I is sorry to interrupt. There is being a messenger."

"Regarding?" Lucius snapped, obviously not happy to be interrupted.

"The recent inspection, Master."

Lucius sighed, and a silence descended on the room as everyone waited to see what he would do. The crackling of the fireplace, lit to keep out the late fall chill, was almost deafening in the awkwardly quiet place. Abruptly, he stood up.

"I'll take care of this. Just a moment." He said, slinking out the door after the skittering house elf.

Hermione was the only one who didn't watch him leave the room. She was staring into space, probably thinking through every single detail and making gigantic leaps of reason ahead of him. As was per usual.

"The Ministry's been very nosy since the attack on the Manor," Narcissa explained, sipping at what was left of her tea. "More sweeps for dark objects to confiscate."

That was all she said. It was clear she wasn't about to talk about the Horcrux anymore. At least, not until his father returned.

The clock on the wall's ticking was extremely loud as the three of them sat around, waiting. Time was dragging.

Draco stood up. He couldn't stand sitting still in the silence any longer. His mother was staring out the window quietly, chewing on her lower lip as the sun rose and lightened the room considerably. What was she so afraid of? Was the reason she had a Horcrux in her attic so damnable that she couldn't face saying it alone?

Was there ever a reason to have such a dark object in your home that _wasn't_ damnable?

Draco barely realized he was still holding the book as he walked over to the fireplace, stretching his legs as he moved closer to it's warmth, until he almost dropped the thing. He gazed down at it, feeling oddly transfixed.

Draco flipped absently through the old photo album. This was what a Horcrux looked like? It didn't seem dangerous... not in the slightest. Inside were the same pictures he had glanced at when Hermione had first shown it to him- pictures of his parents in school, pictures of the strange ghost she had seen, pictures of his psychotic aunt Bella and estranged aunt Andromeda.

Everyone smiling and having a good time. The Yule Ball. The House Cup. A Hogsmeade Day. Nothing unusual, nothing scary or wicked or... _Horcux-y_ about it.

Then he flipped to the final page in the book, skimming through the last of the pictures as Hermione sat in relative silence, waiting for his mother to continue talking. Waiting to ask more questions. Waiting to decide exactly how to take the pronouncement that they had been carrying around a dark object for months with no apparent repercussions...

Lucius returned, opening the door at the same moment that Draco was about to clap the book shut. Just before he did so, however, he noticed in the very last picture, something... odd.

It was a picture of his mother and father on her graduation day.

His mother had a very noticeable bump under her robes. He hadn't noticed with Pansy, but in this picture it was all too obvious: His mother had been pregnant.

How was that possible?

Draco was trying is best to reconcile the numbers in his head when a frightened gasp snapped his attention back to the table at the other side of the room.

The knife by his mother's half-finished breakfast was gone. In an instant, the scene had changed entirely from the last time Draco had looked up: The knife was in Hermione's hand, her eyes glazed over and a little milky-colored as she stared down at it.

Draco experienced something he only had a handful of times in the past, when something so horrible is about to happen that the world seems to instantly slow down. It's as if the universe wants to punish you, to make sure you notice every little detail and all the ways you were powerless to stop it.

He was staring at the serrated knife held tightly and raised high in Hermione's clenched fist, and the slight movement of the muscles at her neck that hinted she would be drawing the knife down. Down straight into the waiting flesh of Narcissa Malfoy.

Draco was too far away- he wouldn't reach his wand in time, either. He could only stare as Hermione held the knife up, and as his mother struggled to pull out her wand from her position seated at the table. He could only watch as his father pulled out his own wand from his spot by the doorway... too slow. Much, much too slow. But fast enough that he would kill Hermione after she was finished. That much would be expected.

Draco felt his legs twitch with the instinct to run forward, and he stopped himself. There was nothing he could do, no way to make it before the knife plunged down toward it's goal- his mother's throat. He could see it moving down, faster than a breath and yet so very slow to his panicked perspective. His mother backed away, the chair tipping to the side and starting a slow decent to the floor.

Draco didn't have time to put two and two together. He didn't have time to make decisions or be clever or come up with a plan. All he had was instinct, and some corner of his mind was screaming out that he had to do something that seemed completely illogical, and completely at odds with the action he wanted to take. He wanted to protect his mother. He wanted to protect Hermione. How could he hope to do either of those things?

He let instinct win, and dropped the book... right into the fireplace beside him.

Hermione had one hand grasped in Narcissa's hair, the knife hovering in midair just inches from her face. The chair was falling. And suddenly, time stopped going so slow, and Draco knew a moment of unbelievable relief as Hermione stopped the knife's downward descent. She froze as if she'd been petrified, all of the blood draining instantly from her face as she stared down at the terrified expression on Narcissa's face.

The chair crashed to the ground with his mother in it, and Hermione still didn't move. Now Draco allowed his feet to carrying him forward- his father's wand was trained on her, and Draco could see his lips move.

"No!" He yelled, putting himself between the wand's tip and Hermione's back. Lucius' wand twitched, the green shot hitting wide of Draco's head and smashing through one of the tall windows behind the table. There was an explosion of glass, spraying out into the garden beyond.

Draco whirled around, not giving his father any more of his time. He grabbed Hermione around the waist firmly with one arm, and circled her wrist tightly with his fist. He pulled her backwards, away from his mother, forcing her to drop the knife at the same time. Simultaneously he was very careful to keep his body between her and his father's wand. This could still go very badly. He wasn't even sure how the crisis had been averted, really. Everything had happened so fast.

In an instant, he had almost lost the two people he loved the most in the world.

Hermione's entire body was trembling against him as he held her pressed tight to his chest. She was shaking so bad it was almost like some kind of seizure, and the best he could do was hold her even tighter so she wouldn't fall over.

"Draco..." his mother said, climbing over the fallen chair and standing on shaky legs.

"She just tried to kill your mother," Lucius said, stating the obvious as he circled around the pair towards Narcissa. His wand was still held ramrod straight towards Hermione. Draco moved as he moved, keeping his back to his father's potential attack.

"Lucius, put that away... before someone get's hurt," Narcissa managed to say, even though it sounded as if she were trying hard to catch her breath.

"That," Lucius answered, not taking his eyes off his son's back, "is what I'm trying to avoid."

"By throwing around killing curses? I don't think this is her fault..."

"Of course it's not her bloody fault!" Draco yelled over his shoulder, shooting his father a sharp, fiery look.

Hermione's knees gave out, and Draco didn't think he could support her and keep a good eye on his father. He let her fall gently to the ground, her upper body folding down over her knees, while he crouched beside her and calmly pulled out his own wand.

"Lucius, think about it. Look at her! You know exactly what this is. We've seen it plenty of times."

Of course. Draco should have known before. He thought she had been obliviated... why had he overlooked the obvious? The dismissive way she talked about what happened in Knockturn Alley. Her calm demeanor when Draco had concluded that she had lost a block of time. The way she had failed to question... well, everything! Hermione always asked questions! Why hadn't she questioned that event?

Because she was Imperiused, of course.

"We have no proof of that. We do, however, have plenty reason to get rid of her," Lucius answered in a snarling tone.

"You son of a..." Draco was just about at his limit at this point. He had his wand out, and if he had to duel to get Hermione out of the Manor than so be it. It was a miracle both his mother and Hermione were alive- he'd be damned if he would let his father's bloodlust ruin it. Because what else could one call it? He _wanted_ to kill Hermione. He wanted an excuse. Then all of his problems would disappear, right?

"You don't mean that, Lucius... no one would blame you for trying to protect me," Narcissa said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. She put a hand on his shoulder gently. "I know you're angry, Lucius, but it's over now. Lower your wand."

Finally, Lucius lowered his wand. He kept it tight in his fist, as did Draco, but at least no one was aiming to kill anymore. It was a start. Draco was still furious, but he had a more pressing matter to attend to- he was worried about Hermione. Now that it seemed less likely Lucius would start casting unforgivables, Draco felt safe enough to turn towards her again, placing a hand gently on her back.

"Hermione?" he tried, speaking softly. She was still shaking, but it was nowhere near the convulsions of before. Now it just seemed like she was... crying? Was she crying? He couldn't tell with her doubled over like that. She was leaning over so far her forehead was pressed to the cold floor, and her arms were trapped, wrapped around her stomach.

Who would Imperius Hermione? And with the purpose of killing his mother? It really didn't make any sense... the Death Eaters were all either dead, reformed, or in Azkaban now. He couldn't think of anyone that had a vendetta against his mother, not to the point of using an unforgivable to try and murder her.

But then, it must be related to the Horcrux, right? Hermione stopped when he threw it in the fire.

He looked back over his shoulder at the gleaming stone fireplace. He could very clearly make out the outline of the book- it hadn't crumbled at all. He couldn't see it in detail from this distance, but he judged that it wasn't burning.

Why? How had he known to do that?

Because Hermione had been carrying the book. Because she had told him a little about the evils of Horcuxes. He had taken a wild chance, and it had paid off.

Could a Horcrux cast an Imperius curse? It appeared that indeed, it could.

"Come on." He said, trying to keep his tone gentle even as an unsteady feeling started to cloud his mind. This wasn't over. It wasn't over until they killed... destroyed... the Horcrux. "Let's get you somewhere safe- I'll take you to Harry and Ginny."

Hermione didn't answer, but she did shake her head from it's spot pressed to the floor. No. She didn't want to be moved. Draco frowned. "If that book is a Horcrux, we have to destroy it. How do we destroy it, Hermione?" She had told him before, of course, but he knew if he asked her a question she would want to answer it. It was just the way she was. She needed a purpose to get her off the ground so he could take her the _hell_ away from the Manor.

"Destroy it?"

It was his mother who had spoken, and Draco looked up, surprised. His mother had known what was sitting in her attic, hadn't she? Why had she allowed it to stay there? Why hadn't she destroyed it before? "It's dangerous," he answered plainly, stating the obvious.

"Yes, but..."

"But what!? Why did you keep that here?"

"Don't speak to your mother that way," Lucius hissed, and he put an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Don't speak about things you don't understand, Draco. You're mother had a right."

Draco's eyes widened. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You knew too. You both just..."

Lucius shook his head. "I didn't know what a Horcrux was until recently. I just knew it was a powerful instrument of revenge."

Instrument of revenge? Wasn't a Horcrux a dark means of eternal life? Who could that provide revenge against?

"You're not making any sense, but I really don't care at this point. I'm taking my wife out of here, and when I come back I'm going to destroy that god-damned book."

It was obvious he wouldn't get Hermione to walk out of there on her own two feet, so he just reached under her, pulling her up and doing his best to hold her limp body upright against him. With a "crack," he side-along apparated Hermione far away from the book that had hurt her.

...

Everything was very muddled in Hermione's memory of the morning's events. The first thing she was very clearly aware of was Harry sitting beside her bed, his face set in such a grim expression she almost wondered if she were dying.

She wasn't sure if she had been sleeping before that point. She was fairly sure she wasn't... didn't Draco carry her here? Didn't he lift her up the creaky stairs of Grimmauld place? She thought she also recalled some loud disruptive noises... arguing?

"Draco...?" she asked, and found that her tongue felt heavy and almost too big in her mouth. She was fairly sure this was due to fatigue and not an actual physical ailment, like a tongue-tying curse.

"Nope, guess again," Harry said, the very strict look on his face dissolving into something like relief at her words. "Are you feeling better, Hermione?"

She tried to nod, and found that that was too difficult. She felt like she had been straining her body against something for a very long time, like she had been running marathons all day long with a pack of wolves on her heels. She really couldn't put together _what_ she had done that morning, at least not in any exact order. Maybe she _had_ been running?

She settled for opening her mouth and moving her leaden tongue, again. "I suppose. I'm... confused."

Just then, Ginny popped in, bouncing the door open off her hip as she balanced a tray of drinks in her hands. It was a strange sight, seeing the redhead bringing in snacks and tea like a motherly person. Ginny never really came across as a motherly person.

"I come bearing gifts of ginger tea and some kind of cookie Kreacher made. I think it's..." Ginny balanced the tray on one hand, reaching up to grab a cookie and sniffing at it. "Oatmeal? Maybe?"

Okay, that was more believably Ginny.

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the burdensome tray from his wife and placing it on the bedside table.

"How is she?" Ginny asked, looking right at Hermione as she said it.

"I'm... awake Ginny," Hermione muttered breathily, wondering why Ginny was talking to Harry and not her.

Ginny blinked in surprise, giving Harry a quick look. "She sounds better!"

Harry grinned. "Yeah definitely more lucid than before. Hermione," he started, turning back to her bedside, "you've been awake since you got here. You just... haven't really been seeing anything, I think. Kinda muttering and staring into space..."

"I have...?" Hermione managed, blinking rapidly as if that would help clear her head. She was right, Draco _had_ brought her here. From Malfoy Manor. What were they doing at the Manor? They lived above the joke shop now...

"Hermione," Harry started, once again affecting a very serious expression, "Draco said you were-"

"Harry!" Ginny interrupted him, smacking his arm with a "tsking" sound coming from between her teeth. "She needs to rest first! Really, what's wrong with you?"

Harry rubbed at his arm, looking a bit sheepish. "She would want to know. I know I would want to know."

Hermione could, on top of everything else, feel a headache coming on. "What?" was all she could manage to push out of her throat, but she hoped she said it with enough grating frustration that her friend's got the hint.

Ginny was still glaring at Harry as he answered, "You were Imperiused. At least, that's one of the few details Draco dropped in the brief time he bothered with us." Harry sounded more than a little pissed. Yes, there had definitely been arguing.

Imperiused. Someone had taken control of her? Forced her to do... what? She found herself shivering more than a little, and Ginny stepped forward to adjust the comforter up to her chin.

Hermione didn't like to be out of control. The idea was only worsened by the fact that she had no memory of what she had done, what had been done to her... the last thing she remmebered was being woken up by Draco early in the morning. She couldn't clearly remember why, or what came after. That was even worse than being attacked, worse than Nott's mansion and even worse than what The had tried to do to her at the Manor. Or maybe not worse... but certainly equal in her eyes. To lose control of who you are, to potentially hurt people you care about... it was horrifying, to say the least.

Hermione fought not to cry as she asked, "What... did I... do?"

Ginny gave Harry an 'I told you you should have kept your mouth shut' look, hands on her hips and everything. Then she turned and looked Hermione square in the eyes. "You tried to kill your mother-in-law. Mind, she is one of the worst mother-in-laws in the history of mother-in-laws, but everyone still has the sneaking suspicion that you really didn't mean to do that."

And then... it all came back to her in a sudden blinding flash. From the moment she walked into the room, she had zeroed in on the knife, and in her mind a voice had whispered, over and over again, 'Pick it up.'

'Pick it up.'

'Pick it up.'

'Pick it up.'

So many times that eventually, it seemed like a reasonable request. She waited for Draco to be far away. Then she stood, and she picked it up.

"Oh, my god..." Hermione said, closing her eyes to the memory of touching the cool silver handle of the serrated knife, meant to cut bread and sausage. The memory of raising it up over the frightened woman. She had felt calm, comfortable even, in her own skin. Like she was just along for the ride, watching a movie. At the time, she barely registered what was happening, and on their own accord her eyes focused on Narcissa Malfoy's throat.

'Cut.' The voice had said, though it had hardly been necessary. By now, the voice was pulling the strings.

'Cut.'

'CUT!'

Hermione found the strength to sit up suddenly, grabbing at the sides of her head. Ginny was there immediately, sitting beside her in bed and gathering her into her arms. "Now, I didn't say you did anything! It's all okay! Everyone is fine! Draco asked us to take care of you while he went to talk to his folks- I assume there's a lot more about this story than he let on."

"Like who did this," Harry said through gritted teeth. Harry liked to fix problems. Harry liked to help people, especially his friends. And lately, Harry hadn't been able to help with most of Hermione's problems. This one especially seemed to be pissing him off.

Hermione wanted to know that too. Who would want Narcissa Malfoy dead? Most of the usual suspects were out of the picture... so who? Why?

Why Hermione?

"Think about it," Harry continued. "Don't you remember anything?"

"It must have been... when I first lost my memory." Hermione concluded. It made sense. She could feel her strength returning as she tried to think, tried to reason through the situation. Yes, it must have happened at Knockturn Alley. What had happened at Knockturn Alley?

Where a wall had been erected in her mind before, she could suddenly see clearly. She pushed through the last of the rubble, wiping clean the remaining influence on her mind. It was like... as she _thought_ about banishing the block on her memory, it was so easy to make it crumble away. And what she saw was-

"A ghost," she whispered, looking down at her wrist with wide eyes. Something had touched her. From her bag.

Not a ghost. The Horcrux.

She looked up at Ginny. "When Tom Riddle's diary made you do those things in your first year, you didn't remember them at first, right?"

Ginny looked distinctly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. "I... no, not really. Not until after..." she looked sideways at her husband. After he saved her from the Basilisk.

Hermione nodded. "It... It's a Horcrux. The photo album. I don't know exactly who made it or why, but I have my suspicions."

Ginny gasped, and Harry clenched his fists on his knees.

"You're sure?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Narcissa was just about to tell us all about it. I found it. I think it has a score to settle with her." Hermione was definitely feeling better. It was like she was taking back her voice, her own power over destiny. "The Horcrux somehow got me to use a cursed music box- I think that's what let it into my mind. Like with the journal and it's written confessions, it needed a way in..." The more she spoke about what happened, the clearer events became, and the less powerless she felt. She knew, now, what it felt like to break the influence of an Imperius curse. "It crawled into my mind and controlled me."

It took time, distance, luck, friendship, and a good deal of willpower. She wished she had had more willpower earlier, because if Draco hadn't shocked the Horcrux with fire for just that second... she would have been a cold-blooded murderer.

Hermione looked over at Harry. "We need a weapon."

…...

Draco didn't take his time. He explained in as quick and clipped a manner as possible what had happened to Hermione once he reached Harry and Ginny. Harry had tried to force himself in on this little adventure, and the two boys had nearly come to blows when Draco insisted that talking to his parents was something better handled alone.

"Let him go," Ginny had finally intervened, "he'll come back quickly, won't you Draco?"

Draco nodded. Hell yeah, he'd come back quickly. He had to make sure Hermione was alright.

"Who was it?" Harry had demanded, getting a little too close to Draco's face for his comfort. "Who did this to her?"

Draco shook his head. "I have no idea. Possibly a book. The sooner I get going, the sooner I'll have answers for you, Potter."

And so, it wasn't long at all before Draco returned to the Manor.

Breakfast had been cleared, the offending knife missing even though his mother sat in the same spot as before. Lucius was standing, now, and was staring hard at Draco as he entered the room. As if this were all his fault. As if he had chosen sides against his family, and should feel guilty about it.

He always felt guilty for something, anyways. This was nothing new to Draco.

Draco walked directly up to his mother, sat down across from her, and calmly said, "Okay, I'm listening."


	49. Chapter 49

_A/N: Holy crap you guys. I SWORE I posted this a few days ago, and it turns out I didn't. Oops! I'll be getting chapter 50 out by the end of the day, too! Sorry! Bad writer, BAD._

_Sora: Fixed the problem! Sorry, my bad!_

**Chapter 49: The Horcrux**

Draco hadn't expected his mother to pull out the pensieve. She said it was easier than having to actually say the words, and based on her tone Draco agreed on the principle that he didn't want his mother to get all emotional on him. At least, not in present day. He wasn't sure what would be in the pensieve, but no assurances against crying were provided.

He fell into a rather dark scene- literally. The room was nearly pitch-back, if not for the cool blue moonlight seeping in through the open window. It was summer, and the night air smelled strongly of the firelillies planted in the back garden.

This was the Manor. Just a small whiff of that scent and Draco was sure of it. This was what the Manor smelled like in June. Draco didn't realize before just _how well_ he knew this house.

He wanted to call out in the darkness, to see if anyone was there, but then he remembered that no one would hear him. This was a memory, nothing more. He couldn't interact with it or change it in any way.

He could only observe.

Then, a sound pierced the darkness. It was a cry... a baby's cry.

Draco watched, his confusion only building as the form of a woman ran into the room, waving an arm and turning on lights with a flick of her wand. It was his mother- he saw that now, her pale features glowing in the lamplight. But it was his mother as he had never seen her before. She was... well, she was _his_ age! Certainly no more than nineteen or twenty. She was moving with much more urgency and purpose than her usual graceful self, almost running to the crib near the open window. She scooped up the baby, bouncing it against her as she bobbed back and forth across the room, humming. Her humming wasn't very soothing- there was too much stress in it. She sounded more like she was crying, her eyes trained on the ceiling like she was begging an unknown deity.

The baby was wrapped in a blue blanket. It was a boy... and it _wasn't_ Draco. The picture of his mother at the end of the Photo Album really was true- his mother had had a baby before him, when she was much younger. Draco had a brother.

That thought almost floored him, because he knew he didn't have a brother. He had never heard anyone speak of this _ever_, in his entire life.

Which could only mean that something horrible must have happened.

He _didn't_ have a brother... anymore.

Into the now brightly-lit room came his father, also looking far too young to be his father. Lucius walked up to Narcissa, putting an arm around her shoulders and touching the baby's head. "I'll take him Narcissa- you have to sleep."

Narcissa shook her head almost violently, pulling the baby up tighter against her bosom and continuing to bounce him. He was still crying loudly. Every once in a while he would make a strange gasping sound that seemed a little... abnormal. "No. He needs me. He needs both of us."

And then, just as Draco feared, his mother burst into tears quite suddenly, still rocking the baby. "I don't know what to do Lucius! I don't know... _why_ is this happening? _What did we do wrong?_"

Draco really didn't want to hear about this. He was perfectly aware of what his parents had done "wrong" to have a baby at such a young age... though for pure blood families, it wasn't exactly unusual to get married and start a family early. The more he thought about it, he was sure he had heard that his mother was still at Hogwarts when they first got married. 7th year, so she was of age...

This would probably be why.

"Maybe we should try some of the Sleeping Draught the Healer gave us," Lucius offered, attempting to rub at his crying wife's back while she continued to move around. "At least then he'd rest."

"She said it might aggravate his condition. I'm not going to risk it, just so _we_ can get some sleep!" Narcissa hissed, clearly growing more agitated as she bounced the baby, tears still flowing freely. She sniffled loudly, holding the baby with one arm so she could wipe at her face with the sleeve of her sleeping robe.

Draco tried getting a little closer. It was hard with his mother moving about the room so rapidly, but eventually he got close enough to see the baby's face.

He looked normal. Nothing wrong with him, except that his face had grown red with the efforts of his wailing. Yet Narcissa and Lucius were talking about the baby as if it were sick- it didn't look like he had spattergroit or anything like that. Then again, not every wizard illness was visually apparent.

Lucius sighed. He caught his wife again, once more stopping her pacing about the room. He wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to kiss her bent forehead. Draco felt distinctly uncomfortable- he felt like he was intruding, on top of the fact that he really didn't need to see his parents act so... close. His parents never acted like that in front of him. Well, rarely. And only if someone died.

The baby made that strange gasping sound again, and Draco realized that his last thought had been a little... morbid. Afterall, something _was_ going to happen to this baby. It was sick. And Draco _didn't_ have a brother.

Everything vanished in a puff of smoke. Whisping tendrils of gray swirled in the darkness, taking shape into a new scene. Once again, they were in the Manor... but this time, Narcissa wasn't with Lucius. She was sitting outside on the veranda by the back garden, the smell of firelillies still lingering heavy in the air. Another woman was sitting with her- Franny Fortune. The woman from the pictures. Hermione's ghost.

Most likely, the creator of a Horcrux.

"Cissa, you can't let yourself be stressed out like this. It isn't healthy, and it isn't productive. Your husband hasn't slowed down just because of your family... crisis," Fortune was telling her, and even to Draco, who knew nothing of the situation, it sounded more than a little insensitive. "He's busy with that Death Eater club, while you sit at home sulking."

"You can't understand Franny. You will, when you settle down. You'll understand then how much you can love someone you only just met."

Fortune seemed confused, then sighed. "Look, there's nothing you can do about it. At least work with me while you're stuck at home! I bought some new books... the Ministry distributed a new "banned" list in the papers, but I managed to sneak a few copies from a shop in Bulgaria. The government doesn't have a right to tell us what kind of magic we can learn to protect ourselves, Cissa."

Narcissa snorted. "You sound like Bella. Why don't you go bother her? She'd be happy to learn all kinds of crazy dark magic with you. Personally, I don't need it."

Fortune looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. "Don't need it? Why, because that's the the Ministry said? What if you need to defend your home? What if the ministry barges in and starts stealing all of the Malfoy family artifacts because they deem them too "dark?" What gives them the right to decide that? And what about all of the amazing things you can do with dark magic? The power to change stubborn minds, to raise the dead, to become immortal! Maybe even to cure born illnesses..." she trailed off, obviously hoping Narcissa would take the bait.

She did.

"You... you think there might be a cure? In those old books we played with at school?"

"Maybe. Maybe in the new one's I ordered. Dark magic doesn't always mean the _result_ is bad. Sometimes it's just the _means_ that are deemed "wrong" by those who don't understand the greater good."

Draco had to admit: The woman knew how to manipulate. This was exactly what his mother wanted to hear at that point, and so she readily agreed to help the girl in any way she could.

The mist swirled again, and Draco began to get a very, very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what came next, because he knew it couldn't be good. Playing around with dark magic never led to anything good.

This time, the two witches were standing in the garden. There was a garden gnome between them, sealed tight in a glass mason jar. It was running back and forth, bumping into the glass.

"Ready?" Fortune said, grinning as if they were about to sled down a steep hill instead of cast a potentially hazardous dark spell.

Narcissa nodded, wand held out in anticipation.

"Now, when I remove it's heart you'll only have about a minute before it's brain dies from a lack of blood flow. It would be longer in a human-"

"We're not talking human right now, Fran. Let's focus on this tomato-thief."

Just as she said, Franny Fortune performed some very impressive- and disturbingly surgical- magic which precisely removed the heart of the tiny creature. It was a delicate procedure, like needlework or rat spleen removal, and Fortune made it look like an art. The tiny purple mass was still beating, hanging in the air. Draco watched the little potato-shaped gnome stop it's mad running in the jar, grasping at its own chest and looking up at the heart in the air with horror. It fell over, and Narcissa kneeled down by the glass. She took off the lid, dumping out the gnome and the floating heart.

Then, she started to whisper a very complex spell, moving her wand in small jerky motions. The little heart started to split in two. Then, it was more like the heart was shedding something... another heart. A second, perfect copy of the first heart stood by, waiting. Narcissa moved the very still body of the garden gnome over so it was lying on it's back. With a finger,she poked at the thin and precise rip in it's chest, prying it open a little. Fortune moved the heart with a locomotion spell, placing it back in the body. She cast a few healing spells on the little creature, and they waited.

And waited.

"It won't work." Narcissa muttered. Her face fell, but it was more than just a little disappointment. From her kneeling position she fell backwards on her butt, dropping her face to her folded arms. "It won't work.

The potato-shaped creature never moved.

"We're just not adept at healing spells, Cissa! But that new heart was beating! It was a good start!"

"It was an exact copy of the first. How would that help? If the gnome had a bad heart to begin with, then we would just be replacing it with another bad heart..."

"True. But what if we had a good heart to replace it with?"

Narcissa sighed. This was obviously an old conversation. "Where would we find something like that, Fran?" The way she said it... it was clear she knew the answer. She was reminding Fran of an earlier discussion.

Draco's mother wasn't happy with Fortune's implication, because his mother wasn't a murderer.

Fortune frowned, standing up to her full height. "Well, that is up to you. We'll keep working on it. Now, let's work more on _my_ project, shall we?"

Fortune walked to where a small bag had been deposited by a bush, opening the buckle that kept it closed and pulling out a very familiar large square book. The photo album.

"Really? The album? That's what you chose?" Narcissa asked, still not standing up from her spot on the ground. She sounded very tired- obviously she was crushed at their spell's failure, and she didn't seem to have the fight left to argue with her friend about "her project."

The dark-haired woman shrugged, flipping through the book. "The book says it has to be something I place value on- it could be anything, even a rock, but I have to find it important in some way for the spell to work. Additionally, I feel that this would be especially inconspicuous. Who would ever think such an innocent item could hold such magical significance?"

Narcissa just shook her head. "I'll help, Fran. I told you I would help. But you promised me you would find another way... I can't... I can't help you do it your way. The book's way."

Murder.

Fortune sighed deeply, placing a hand on her forehead. "How many ways can I justify the significance of this to you Cissa? Fine- don't worry. I won't ask for your help." She threw the book back in the bag angrily, shaking her head. She made to leave, then paused when Narcissa rose to her feet.

"Wait- that's not what you promised! I'll help you find another way, okay? A way where no one has to get hurt. Let me help you, Fran."

Narcissa may or may not have noticed, but from Draco's perspective, he could see the rather devious way Franny smirked at her words, facing in the opposite direction. She seemed amused by his mother's plea, and Draco couldn't imagine why. If Narcissa wouldn't help her murder someone to make a Horcrux, then why was she hanging around the Manor? Why was she helping Narcissa learn how to replace a heart? Franny didn't seem like the altruistic type, not even to her friends- she had another agenda.

"Very well. It will take about a week to properly prepare the vessel, anyways." She held out the photo book. "Let's go to the potions room and get started!"

….

A weapon. The kind of weapon that could destroy Horcruxes. Powerful magic-imbued weapons and creatures were the only things capable, and the list of such things was quite short.

"Basilisk Fangs?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head. "Ron and I grabbed the only one's that looked in good condition during the Battle of Hogwarts. There's just fragments left. Any idea where the Sword of Gryffindor is now?"

"Might be in McGonagall's office," Harry pondered. "Though it also might be stashed away in the Sorting Hat."

Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them. "That's how you killed Voldemort's Horcruxes, right? Was there any other way to do it?"

"Fiendfyre," Hermione said distastefully. "But I don't think we know anyone capable of controlling it. It takes way too much effort, concentration, and practice, and we don't have that kind of time. Although..." she began to think. In one of her Metal Charming textbooks, she had read something about friendfyre. "It can be contained through Metal Charming, if a proper container is fabricated. It has to be a charmed silver alloy, usually in the shape of a box..." Hermione wished she had kept her books with her. Her bag was at home, and she wasn't actually sure if that particular book was in the bag or sitting on a shelf at Malfoy Manor.

"Where can we find one of these boxes of fiendfyre?" Ginny asked. "Do they sell them in Diagon Alley? Mail Order from Tibet? What?"

Hermione was having trouble thinking. Something was tugging at her memory, now. "They would have a seal on them from the maker, and if I saw it I could tell if it held fiendfyre. They were used most often in the middle ages, as a kind of weapon. Depending on the charm or curse placed on the metal as it's being formed, the box will release the fiendfyre in a controlled manner. Like, if an enemy touches it. Or if the person holding it fires their wand. Or if... if they lie."

Yes. All at once she realized that she knew _exactly_ where they would find a box like that.

….

Draco was taken to a scene of utter chaos. Narcissa was screaming at a woman wearing all white, threatening to have her license revoked while Lucius, calmly but with a deadly seriousness that was markedly similar to his older self, asked another woman to speak to St. Mungoes Head of Facilities. The poor Healers looks frazzled, but were trying to calm the panicked parents down as much as they could.

"You can take him home today," the Healer by Narcissa tried to placate, but Narcissa wasn't having any of it.

"What does that mean!? What are you saying!? You're saying you're giving up, that's what you're saying!"

The Healer gave her a pitying look, then glanced at her partner. "You could try a private Healer for a second opinion, but I'm afraid the magic to completely _replace_ a heart just doesn't exist."

"We went to our private Healer first, naturally," Lucius answered indignantly, grinding his teeth in a visible effort not to yell.

"You're a liar!" Narcissa yelled, obviously not willing to put in the effort for restraint that her husband was struggling with. "You lie! There is magic to do just about everything, if you didn't let your petty ideals on ethics get in the way! My _son_ is dying, and you're not doing a damn thing about it!"

The Healer once again looked to her partner, seemingly at a loss for the words to say. He spoke up, trying to help the woman deal with Narcissa. "Miss, all we can do now is help him be comfortable. Take him home."

Narcissa snapped her gaze to her husband, who said nothing. "Oh, so you've given up too, now?"

"I didn't say that," Lucius answered with extreme patience.

"You didn't have to. You've been this way for weeks. Where's your passion gone, Lucius? There's a way to save him. There is. You have to know there is. And you're not going to say anything."

Lucius shook his head, sighing deeply. "Narcissa, you're not a Healer. I'm not a Healer. The Healers said they can't-"

"_Won't_," Narcissa amended venomously.

"If you're talking about dark magic," said the Healer woman, looking more than a little uncomfortable with the situation, "then I'm sorry. St. Mungoes and all Healers in Great Britain have an oath to keep, you know."

Lucius grabbed his wife's arm, pulling her aside abruptly, and said in a hushed tone, "We don't know anyone qualified for the spell you're talking about. Narcissa, we've talked about this-"

"-but they won't even _try_-"

"-No, they won't. They never will. They are qualified and refuse, and you are willing but not qualified. I don't want to give up Narcissa... believe me, this is breaking my heart..." his voice cracked, and a very rare show of real emotion played out through Draco's father's eyes.

"I _am_ willing," his mother repeated suddenly, breaking the silence. There was something in her eyes... determination. She had settled on something, and it scared Draco to death.

….

Hermione had a feeling the older Malfoys were preoccupied at the moment, but it still made her heart pound to sneak through the Manor. This wasn't her home, not anymore. Still, she had the correct last name, so no one was alerted to her presence, and nothing kept her from apparating her two friends into the place.

"You're sure?" Harry asked. He didn't seem nervous- Harry rarely seemed nervous in sneaky situations- but he was certainly being cautious, keeping his wand at the ready and his voice low.

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not at all. I only know that I've seen a box that matches my book description before, when Draco and I were digging through his dad's office for the book. It would light people on fire if they lied... sounds like the kind of charm one could attribute to a fiendfyre trap."

They entered Lucius Malfoy's private study... and suddenly, a caterwauling charm began to wail. Hermione threw her hands up over her ears, wincing.

"Well, I should have expected that!" she called at the top of her lungs.

"What!?" yelled Ginny.

Hermione shook her head and just moved swiftly up to the big imposing desk. The last time she had been in here, Draco's father had offered her money to disappear.

She reached into the drawer, happy to find it unlocked. This was where Draco had placed the box after cleaning up. At least, the last time she had been in here he had. However... only a few envelopes and a quill that tried to stab her remained in the space. Hermione slammed the drawer shut, wincing and sucking on a finger that had been pricked. She looked hurriedly around the room, Harry and Ginny watching on in silence with their hands over their ears.

There! On a shelf! She walked swiftly forward, grabbing the innocent-looking cube. She turned it over, and a wave of triumph ran through her.

"Here!" she yelled, knowing full well that her friends couldn't actually hear her above the earsplitting call of the alarm. She pointed to the seal at the bottom of the box. Her hunch had been right- she could tell by the mark pressed into the metal that this box was made by a rather famous home protection company well over a hundred years ago. It would be a waste for such craftsmenship to be used on regular fire, and dark families usually didn't pay top dollar for magical items that didn't include something a little... extra dangerous. It was fiendfyre, or at the very least dragon's flame. Either would, hopefully, do the job.

Hermione indicated to her friends that they should go. She knew Lucius would be coming to see who was digging around his stuff soon enough, and she didn't exactly feel like having to explain herself.

This was about a Horcrux. A Horcrux that could Imperius full grown witches. This was too important to hesitate or waste time on.

…

Draco saw his mother talk to Franny Fortune in hushed tones in the darkness of the potion lab.

"You help me with my immortality, and I'll help you save your boy," Franny replied, sounding very sure and steady despite the insanity of the sentence.

Narcissa hesitated. "It... it will be someone already dying, right? Both of them. It won't really be murder then, right? And we can try to replicate a heart... no one has to die if we do _that_ correctly..."

"Of course, of course!" Franny reassured her, placing an arm around the blond woman's shoulders.

The scene changed quickly, now, as if the pensieve itself was in a rush to see what happened next.

"This one," Fortune whispered, pointing down at the old man. He was hooked up to some kind of machine, and it was beeping steadily in the silence of the darkened muggle hospital room.

Narcissa was crewing on her lip, staying several paces back. Fortune put a bottle, probably a sleep potion, up to the muggle man's mouth and poured the contents down his throat. "Okay," she said, no longer whispering. "Let's move him to the Manor."

Narcissa didn't say anything. She didn't move.

"Am I going to do everything myself?" Fortune asked impatiently.

"No," Narcissa answered.

"Fine, then get over here-"

"I mean no. I changed my mind. This is wrong, Fran! We can't... how can you be okay with this?"

"It's just one muggle, Narcissa. One average, waste of space muggle. He's dying! Look- muggles don't hook up old men to machines if they're _healthy_!"

"No," Narcissa raised her wand, pointing it at her friend. "We're leaving here. Both of us. I can't let this happen."

"Cissa! I need your help! I don't have the equipment I need to make a Horcrux, and I don't have a place to bring this muggle back to-"

"I'm sorry Franny. I can't do it... I can't kill some harmless old man."

"Not even for your son's life?"

Narcissa struggled to talk. Her hands were shaking, making her grip on her wand unsteady. "No. Not... not even for that. I'll find another way. I have to believe there is another way. Besides... it's not just this old man. We would need a baby, too. We still haven't perfected the spell."

"I told you Cissa! Muggle babies die all the time! We just need one with a strong heart but deformed lungs, or something..."

"It's still murder. I can't believe I almost let you talk me into this. I was grief-stricken and you... you took advantage of that! Get out of here, Fran. I don't want to see you again."

Fortune froze, staring at Narcissa from across the room. Slowly, she reached toward her wand...

"Don't!" Narcissa yelled. "Don't make me stun you. Just leave."

Fortune did as she was told, but never took her eyes off of her former ally, even through the deafeningly abrupt sound of apparition. Narcissa could only stare at the spot where Franny had stood, transfixed, as if she could still see those eyes staring back at her.

Again, the scene changed. Faster. Lucius was talking to Narcissa. "There's a Healer in America who says he has a new charm for organ growth. He thinks it might work on a heart..."

"We have to go!" Narcissa said, jumping to her feet. Her eyes were filled with so much hope it was heartbreaking.

"Narcissa... it might not work. In fact, it might kill him."

"It's the only chance we have."

Lucius nodded. "I think so too. I just wanted you to know the risks." He paused, his mouth opened slightly as if he wanted to say more, but was unsure of how to begin."... Narcissa, have you seen Franny lately?"

Her face drained of color immediately, and Draco wondered how his father wasn't suspicious of this reaction. "I... I... why?"

"Well... I hate to break this to you Narcissa, but the Death Eaters have uncovered something... unsavory about her."

Narcissa nodded. She wasn't at all surprised, afterall. Franny Fortune had proven to be a rather wretched human being.

"She's not a half-blood."

Narcissa blinked. This was obviously not what she expected to hear. She sat back down in her seat heavily.

"Yes, unfortunately she forged her blood status all these years. She even took the name "Fortune" from a wizard family in Australia. Her real name's... Cunnings? Cannings something? I don't know- something distinctly muggle. She's a muggle born." Lucius shook his head sadly. "To think she was capable of such deception. Of course, we _can't_ have her in the house anymore."

"Of course not," Narcissa whispered, clearly entering some kind of a state of shock. "All this time... and she was one of them. She's... she's..."

She was willing to _murder_ muggles. Because they were only muggles. But she was a muggle-born the whole time. How could a person become so twisted, so full of loathing for their own kind? Or is that just was her kind were like, monsters willing to do anything, even murder, to rise above the herd?

"A magic-stealing, deceptive little snake," Lucius finished, nodding. "At least it's best everyone found out now, before she managed to weasel her way into a marriage with some poor foolish pure-blood family. Think of what a mess that would have been!"

"Yes. A mess," Narcissa answered.

Once again, seemingly interrupting Narcissa's thought, the mist rolled in and out. It was dark at the front gate.

"You can't come in here."

"Yes, Narcissa. You've made it perfectly clear that you don't want me in your life anymore. I just came for what belongs to me."

"You know, I would have given you the photo album before. Even with the despicable purpose you have in mind for it, it would have been your business. But I'm not in much of a giving mood anymore, _Franny Fortune_." She said the last mockingly, and it didn't escape the dark-haired woman's attention.

"Oh, I see. You've heard the news. Your husband's little club has been spreading it everywhere, you know. I'll never find a respectable husband or position in society, thanks to him. Thanks to _you_."

"Maybe you shouldn't have lied."

"Maybe you should just give me back my Vessel."

Narcissa shot her an icy look. "If you try to apparate in here our defenses will tear you apart. Go home, and once more: I never want to see you again."


	50. Chapter 50

_A/N: Ok, here we go! This is the last chapter, but there is an epilogue coming that should give some closure to the whole thing (which will be seriously big). Honestly, I hate ending stories, so I had a lot of trouble with it. I'll probably need some time to edit and make it perfect. Thanks everyone for your reviews!_

_PS: It's my birthday, too, btw. I want reviews for my birthday. _

**Chapter 50: The Only Son**

Draco was almost feeling dizzy from how rapidly the scenes seemed to change. Everything was happening too fast, speeding towards some point he knew he didn't really want to reach. But he had to know. He had to understand why, why his mother felt _justified_ keeping that Horcrux around. Maybe he would finally know why the rough copy of the fake "Secrets of the Darkest Art" was in his attic, too.

"Crash!"

Narcissa sat bolt upright in bed. Lucius wasn't there, and no one said the reason why out loud so Draco had no idea where he was. The noise had come from inside the Manor. "Elf!" Narcissa called out, and with a "Pop!" a house elf arrived, looking nervous.

The elf looked vaguely familiar to Draco, and it occurred to him after a moment that it was likely a younger version of Yugo, a little less grey to its skin and a little more perk to its long ears.

"Did you hear that noise?"

"What noise mistress?"

"Oh, never mind! I'll check on it myself," Narcissa muttered. "Useless creatures."

She slipped out of bed, pulling on some slippers and a thick robe. For a moment, Draco was worried she would leave her wand sitting on the nightstand, but she doubled back and grabbed it before marching out of the room.

Draco followed behind her silently. She had her wand lit, and was walking straight towards what Draco assumed was the baby's room. The same room with the storage chamber in the ceiling, Draco realized now that he recognized where they were in the Manor. She pushed the door open, hurriedly making her way over to the crib and cooing.

"Did someone wake up in the middle of the night before our big day?" She asked, peering over the side of the crib. Draco couldn't see anything but his mother's back from where he was standing, but something seemed wrong with her body language as she reached into the crib. Slowly, she pulled out the blue blanket, staring at it in her hand. She clutched it to her chest, swirling around, eyes flicking to all corners of the room.

"Elf..." she whispered, then yelled, "ELF!"

The same house elf from before popped into view, bowing low.

"Every elf in this house is to search. NOW!" Narcissa screamed, waving the blanket in the creature's face. Draco didn't think he had ever seen a house elf look quite as terrified as this one did. Yugo's eyes grew to the size of saucers as he stared, mouth gaping, at the empty blanket being shoved in his face.

"Mistress... it is impossible! No one is coming in Malfoy Manor without permissions..."

"He didn't get up and walk away himself! You find my baby, now! It's your job to take care of our family, and if my son makes it out of this building then you've failed," she hissed, drawing back her hand. For a moment Draco thought she would strike the creature. She seemed to think better of wasting time like that, though, and instead waved it away.

She began lighting every room, jogging through the halls of the Manor. She didn't bother calling- Draco was pretty sure she knew exactly who had broken into her home.

Then, she paused, looking to a hall to her left. The one that led to the Potion's lab. "That bitch..." she whispered, then broke into a run towards the room where she had been storing the photo album.

Draco followed reluctantly. He wished he could just speed through this- it was obvious what was coming next.

He heard sounds ahead- a crash, a scream, the flashing lights of spells being flung around the room. Against his better judgment, he ran forward, knowing that he needed to know for sure, to see what his mother had kept secret for so many years.

Narcissa was lying on the floor at a strange angle, one leg trapped beneath her as if she had just been shoved hard backwards- her wand had been thrown from her hands, flung across the room. She was breathing hard, teeth bared and hair wild as she stared wide-eyed at the woman looming above her. Franny Fortune.

But Fortune didn't look like herself, exactly. There was something... off, about her. Something inhuman. Her skin was sunken and sallow, her hair dull, her lips cracked. She looked much closer to the vision Draco had seen in his dream so long ago- a dream which was most likely sent from the Horcrux she had made. The piece of her soul trapped in the cursed photo album.

She wasn't human. She was only a fragment of a human, now, split in two by her own evil deed. Draco saw the limp little bundle on the floor, under one of the tables at the far side of the room. He didn't want to look at it, didn't want his brain to make sense of what it was seeing, but at the same time he couldn't look away. His mind started to put the lump together- it was the shape of a little body. He could see the arm extended over it's head, which was covered by a sheet.

He knew it shouldn't be possible to get sick in a pensieve, but all the same his stomach churned. He was certain that if he had had breakfast, it would have left his stomach by now.

It was dead. It was his brother.

The scene continued to unfold.

"You conniving mudblood bitch! You... I'll kill you!" Narcissa screamed, and wand or no wand she lunged for the woman, her fingers curled like claws that could tear off the offending face of her former friend.

Fortune just laughed, flipping her wand lightly and sending Narcissa flying toward the back wall. She smacked into one of the glass light fixtures, and broken glass tinkled to the floor when she dropped. "Cissa, come now. You can't just steal what belongs to someone else and expect to get away with it! Glad I learned so much about the Manor's defenses while I was still welcome- I had a feeling things might turn out this way."

"My son..." Narcissa wailed, curling in on herself. There was a good deal of blood soaking through her robe in places where the glass had cut her. It was sprinkled through her hair, and spots of bright red stained her fair color.

Fortune paced a little, tapping her wand in her palm. "It didn't _have_ to be this way, you know. But then, we did say we would pick someone who was already dying. I thought you'd be proud- I kept my promise." She walked over to a table with a book-stand resting on it. She had placed the photo album up there, and now began to palm through the pages. She looked down at the pictures with emotionless eyes. The pictures of Narcissa smiling, of their fun times at Hogwarts together. Nothing. Franny Fortune couldn't conjure up the slightest hint of remorse, because Franny Fortune just wasn't capable anymore. She had seen to that with one inhuman act.

"Sadly," she continued, her eyes no longer in focus as she stared down at the album, "I can't have you around anymore either. I see that now. You know too much- I can't let you destroy everything I've worked so hard for." She ran a hand lovingly over the smooth cover of the album as she closed it. She didn't care about it in the same way she had before- it had another significance now.

There was a crack in the air by Fortune's head, and a house elf descended on her. Yugo grabbed her head, holding on tightly with gnarled hands as Franny shook herself to throw the creature off. Narcissa took advantage of the distraction and dove for her wand. She was making the most horrible sounds- like sobbing, but cut off, wild and desperate. Just as she was about to wrap her hand around the smooth wood Fortune threw the elf off and across the room, snapping another attack Narcissa's way. There was a flash of red, and suddenly Draco's mother was screaming.

Cruciatus Curse. Draco instinctively moved forward, wanting to help but knowing that he couldn't change something that had already happened. He couldn't say that this vision was worse than some of the things he had seen during the war- but this time it was his own family being tortured and hurt, and that made it all more personal and painful to watch.

Just when it seemed like there was no hope, the door burst open. Literally. A spell was flung at the outside of the door frame, blowing it to splinters, preceding the entrance of its caster. Lucius. He didn't stop to so much as survey the situation- it was obvious that even at a young age, Lucius had the mentality of a soldier- he was good at dueling, but more than that he was good at thinking quickly when faced with danger. Hesitation could mean death in such a situation, and Lucius rarely hesitated.

He hit Fortune with something red that made her spin wildly, crashing her like a tornado into a potions cabinet. Vials burst, pouring over her face and hair as the cabinet tipped slowly forward over her limp form. Mixing ingredients hissed against the unconscious woman's skin, boiling in some spots and freezing her in others. Even though the spell had knocked her out, Fortune's body twitched, her muscles reacting to the pain of the various liquids.

It was over in an instant, and again Draco wondered where his father had been just a few minutes prior. If he had been home, maybe everything would have happened differently.

Probably at a Death Eater meeting. An early one, when it was all misled ideals and dreams and not screaming and dying. He was too busy dealing with his hatred of muggle-borns to take care of his own family, a lesson he clearly had not learned by the time Draco was born, either.

He ran right for Narcissa after the threat was down, muttering soft words to his wife too quiet for Draco to hear as she sobbed against him. Then he looked around the room, trying to figure out what happened. When he spotted the bundle under the table, the scene changed abruptly. It was obvious that Draco wasn't meant to see their reactions, only to observe the situation.

He was glad for that, at least.

There were Aurors at the house, now. They were in the foyer, talking to Narcissa and Lucius. Presumably, Fortune had already been hauled away.

"We'll need you to testify at the trial," a large, square-shaped man was telling Narcissa. She wasn't really listening- just sitting on the old stiff bench that sat by the door, staring blankly at the floor. She was wrapped in a thick comforter- Draco recognized it as the one that had been on the bed before. Lucius assured them they would, then asked them in a stiff voice if they could leave now. The Aurors, seemingly unable to come up with the right words to comfort the catatonic woman and the robotic-voiced man, agreed to leave.

Once the room was cleared and quiet, Lucius sat down next to his wife. Not touching her, just... sitting.

"I hit her with a fatal curse," he said, but it was obviously meant to be a quarry. Why wasn't she dead? That was the question.

"She can't," Narcissa answered. Her voice was automated and dull. She didn't really sound like a person- more like an old Victrola. "She can't die." The corner of Narcissa's mouth, quite inexplicably, rose shakily. There was a something extremely unbalanced about her- her tinny voice, her red, puffy eyes, her gleeful smirk- it painted a very unhinged picture. "That's why she'll suffer."

From under the big blanket, Narcissa withdrew the photo album that had been sitting on her lap. She had had it stacked on top of another book. "Secrets of the Darkest Art." She held both books in front of her, like she was appraising fine art. "This will be my instrument of revenge. Against her. Against all of her damn greedy muggle-born kind..."

Lucius was taking everything his wife said with a grain of salt. He seemed to be lost in his own little word, nodding to her insane statements as if they were the most natural responses in the world.

Suddenly, everything went inky black. Draco was plunged into nothingness, and with a sucking sound popped back into the real world, staring at the seemingly mundane bowl in front of him. The memories were still swirling, waiting, at the very bottom of the bowl... Draco wished he could just dump them into the fire. It wouldn't make his parents forget them, but it would make him feel better.

His mother had written the book. They had blamed his father without a thought, but never did they think that Narcissa Malfoy would have targeted muggle-borns that way.

They hadn't known anything.

He didn't think his mother knew the part the book had played in the attack on Hermione, or the motivations of the now defunct Post-Voldemort Death Eaters. However... she had definitely meant for muggle-borns to get hurt. She probably wanted to avoid any more people like Fortune utilizing Horcuxes, too, which was why she bothered rewriting the book in the first place.

Suddenly, Draco was aware of a couple things.

First, the high-pitched wail of a Caterwauling charm was piercing through the Manor.

second, Draco was now completely alone in his mother's study.

He was fairly certain that the last point was related to the previous, so he started moving towards the door. Had someone broken into the Manor? _Again_? Who would bother?

At the last minute, he remembered: He wasn't, technically, alone in the room. There was the photo album to deal with. He stared at it.

He still had questions. The memories were so fresh in his mind, and so many things just didn't make sense.

He still didn't really get it. Why his mother kept the Horcrux instead of seeking a way to destroy it. Wouldn't killing a part of her enemy's soul be the best revenge? That's what Draco would have done- what he would do, if he could find out how. Hermione had mentioned using the Sword of Gryffindor to kill the Dark Lord's Horcrux- fat chance Draco would be whipping that out of a hat anytime soon.

For now, he couldn't just leave the room without the photo album, and he really wasn't thrilled at the prospect of _touching_ the thing. It was sitting right where they had left it early that morning, on the floor beside the fireplace where it had failed to burn.

He walked closer, eyeing the cursed thing warily. Could it sense him, somehow? How much of it was a curse, and how much of it was a real and thinking part of Fortune's soul? Could it plan, feel, _act_?

Was it alone, or could it somehow communicate with the real Franny Fortune, rotting away in a cell in Azkaban?

"You're not going to hurt anyone else," Draco said to it. Or to the empty air, depending on the answers to his questions. "You picked the wrong girl to imperius. She has a lot of friends, and we're going to find a way to take you out," Draco continued. Really, he was trying to get a reaction from it, to see what it could do. It was just lying there innocently, like it was just a regular bunch of paper and photos.

Draco shook his head, wondering if he was crazy, talking to a book. He looked around the room, and found a doily draped over a small side table. He grabbed it, using it to pick up the book without actually touching the thing. It might have been a futile gesture, but it made him feel better about it.

The cursed object in hand, Draco made his way out the door, heading towards the sound of the alarm.

...

Hermione felt more than a little foolish, hidden behind the door of the kitchen. The Manor's kitchens were beautiful- clean and well stocked with every food and device imaginable. Of course, the Malfoys never really cared to even look at it. It was house elf territory. Probably where they slept, too, if the small blanket bundles at the corners were any indication.

For a time, she had called the Manor home. Now she was hiding, waiting for the approaching heavy footfalls of Lucius Malfoy, and the lighter tapping heels of Narcissa Malfoy, to pass by her and her friends. Now that she remembered all that had happened when she was imperiused, she wasn't entirely sure how Lucius would react to her, once again, acting against his wishes. He might start a duel, which they just didn't have time for. Not until after their mission was complete.

It seemed a little crazy- what was the rush? The Horcux had sat in an attic for what... thirty years? And yet now it felt to Hermione as if a clock was ticking. The Horcrux was angry. It was trying to defend itself.

It was trying to attack Narcissa, though Hermione wasn't clear on why. It needed to die, and soon.

Once the couple had passed by, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny left the kitchen quietly, running in the opposite direction towards the room where Hermione had last seen the Horcrux. If Lucius had it on his person... well, then they would just have to _make_ the time to deal with him. Hermione had a feeling neither of the older Malfoys would want to touch the book, though. They seemed to understand that it was dangerous, especially since it had managed to cast a successful imperious curse on someone as well-versed in magic as Hermione.

They rounded a bend in the hallway, and Hermione saw someone else come into view from the hall at the end, moving towards them: Draco.

And he had the Horcrux.

She felt almost as relieved to see him as she had at Nott's mansion.

"Draco!" she called, happily waving the little silver box above her head.

Draco saw the group and moved speedily towards them. He was holding the Horcrux out in front of him by just two fingers, wrapped in lace, as if it would burn him. Maybe it could.

Harry laughed.

"Something funny, Potter?" Draco snarled defensively.

Harry shook his head, making a visible effort to kill his grin. "It's just... we walked around wearing a damn Horcrux for months in the frozen woods, and here you come with..." he couldn't seem to finish his sentence without risking further laughter, so he just held his hand out in front of him daintily, mimicking Draco.

Draco glared as he joined up with them, the Horcrux still held awkwardly away from his body. "And were you all completely fine, touching the thing for that long?"

"Er, no," Hermione answered. She shot Harry a look. "We were not. It almost drowned Harry, and it made me... irritable."

"More than usual?" Ginny pipped up, and gave Hermione a smile to let her know she was kidding. Hermione still frowned back at her.

"So, how does holding it like this make me look silly or cowardly, when the alternative would mean I was an idiot?"

"Hey, we had to, well, move around a lot..." Harry said defensively.

"Can we just agree that Draco looked rather funny running like that, and Harry is an idiot, and we're all absolutely childish to be so easily distracted?" Ginny said, indicating the doily-covered book held gingerly between Draco's fingers.

"Oh, yes, right," Hermione said, holding up the box. "I think this can kill it," she informed Draco.

Draco stared at her, then shrugged. "Whatever you say, Hermione," he answered, not questioning her logic. Hermione appreciated the confidence, and when Draco set the book on the ground she set the box on top of it.

The four of them stayed back a few paces, silently watching. Hermione was even holding her breath, not wanting to be the one to break the silence, anticipation filling them all.

Nothing happened.

"How do we get the book to lie?" Harry asked into the quiet, and Hermione had to admit it was a pretty good question.

"What if someone said a lie nearby?" Ginny asked.

Hermione shook her head. "No. First, none of us should be anywhere _near_ the thing if it spits out fiendfyre. And second, you need to be touching the metal of the box. That's how it directs the fire and keeps it under control. No one wants out of control fiendfyre."

"No. No one wants that," Draco muttered, no doubt remembering the Battle of Hogwarts. As they all were.

Everyone was silent for a moment, thinking. Hermione had expected, once she realized what the box did, that this would be an easy and elegant solution to destroy the Horcrux. She hadn't anticipated that their main issue would be with _triggering_ the thing.

Hermione stepped forward, crouching down beside the box. "I'm going to make the book talk," she said simply, and if her friends were anything other than Hogwarts-graduate wizards and witches it would have sounded completely ludicrous. As it was, the answer to their problem seemed so stupidly obvious that Hermione felt embarrassed for not thinking of it immediately.

If she could make a teacup dance across a table, she could make a book tell a lie.

She thought of how to word the spell, and what combination of common spells to use, and then with a few turns and slashes of her wand, the book began to twitch.

Hermione stepped back, arms splayed to force her friends back, too. Not that they needed the nudge.

The pages of the book lifted and closed, but not so much as to throw off the metal box. "I..." said the book, voice straining. It almost sounded like... like the book was trying to fight the spell. Like it was fighting against what Hermione was making it say.

The Horcrux was trying to save itself.

"...am not... a Horcrux," it finished, and without even missing a beat the top of the little silver box popped open with a grinding mechanical whir, a hurricane of flames bursting forth and consuming the green-bound album. The fire took shape, and various kinds of horrific monstrous creatures of all-consuming heat went to work on _the liar_. There was a horrific shriek as the booked was burned by the organic forms of pure flame. They were eating her, the soul of Franny Fortune, devouring the book and the curse placed on it. The light and heat were enough that Hermione had to turn away, and when she did she found that everyone else had already done the same.

When it was finished, and nothing but black ash was left staining the floor, the control magics on the box activated, pulling the deadly animals back into their prison. The last flicks of flame vanished as the top closed, and the box once again looked plain and harmless.

Hermione didn't want to test her theory quite yet, but she guessed that the box would be cool to the touch, even.

"No!" cried a voice from behind them, and once again everyone turned.

There was Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius not far behind her, running to catch up. She must have realized who had broken into the house and was returning for the book.

"No..." she said again, her skin a pallid shade and her voice shaky. "... now she will die. It's not enough."

Draco sighed, giving his mother a sympathetic look. "It is enough. That thing could have _killed_ you, mother! It could have killed Hermione, or me, too. It was dangerous, and should have been destroyed a long time ago."

"But..." Narcissa looked a little confused, her eyes drifting to the ceiling as she worked through her thoughts. "Without the Horcux, she'll die in Azkaban. That isn't enough." She looked back down at her son, and something seemed to click. Her eyes widened with her realization, and instantly she retracted her statement. "No, you're right. If I lost you... then what would be the point?" she finished so quietly, it was very nearly a whisper.

Hermione had the feeling she was missing something. However, none of it mattered. They were all tired, the Horcrux was dead, and Lucius looked more than a little murderous at this point. He was standing beside his wife, arms crossed, glowering at Hermione as if, once again, everything was her fault.

It wasn't time to argue about _why_ they had destroyed the Horcrux. It was time to get the hell out of there.

"Hermione found the book in Dumbledore's office," Draco said, ignoring Hermione as she tugged at his sleeve, hinting that they should go. "How did it get back there, mother? You copied it, right? You made the fake version that the Death Eaters were using."

His mother looked so taken aback by the seeming randomness of the question, she seemed to have forgotten her voice.

"She did write it, then?" Hermione asked, finally feeling like everything had come together. "_Secrets of the Darkest Art_?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah, but I don't think she realized it had anything to do with what happened to us. She wrote it when she was in... well, when she was grieving. A long time ago. Isn't that right, mother?"

His mother, fighting through her shock, nodded. "I didn't think that would be something you would get from the memories... but yes, I copied the book to throw people off the trail. After Fortune... I didn't want anyone to make a Horcrux again, and I didn't want anyone else to die..."

"Any pure-bloods, that is," Hermione amended, and no one contradicted her.

"Dumbledore..." Narcissa said, taking her husband's proffered arm and leaning heavily on him. She looked close to passing out from the day's events. "I sent the book back to him anonymously. I expect he took much better care of it from then on."

Hermione didn't bother telling her that actually, he made it quite easy for her to get it when the trio needed it. "Why not destroy it?"

"I didn't... I thought someone may need it, some day. And it's not in my nature to destroy precious artifacts, anyways! I thought Dumbledore would keep it safe..."

Well, it was destroyed now.

"I think it's time you all left my house." Lucius said with barely-concealed rage. "None of you are welcome here at the moment." He looked right at Draco as he said it, and Hermione tightened her grip on his arm.

"Draco didn't have anything to do with us breaking in," Hermione answered quickly. "I didn't know if you'd go along with our plan, and I wanted that thing dead." She indicated the soot under the box with a flick of her eyes. "I suppose I'm sorry. I should have asked-"

"And I would have refused any request from you, you worthless, meddling, mud-"

"Careful," Harry interrupted, hand on his hip by his wand as he stared down his former enemy.

"That's enough Lucius! We agreed they could both come back-" Narcissa tried to argue, but was cut off.

"I think this changes things. I _knew_ someone had snooped around my office before..."

"That was mostly me," Draco said between grit teeth. "And don't worry about it- we finished what we came back here to do, so we'll just be on our way."

Hermione didn't like the idea of leaving things like this. She could see the way Narcissa was looking between her son and her husband, and she could feel how tense Draco was through the sleeve of his robes. This wasn't right- it just couldn't stay this way forever.

"Draco..." Hermione started. She had no idea what she wanted to say. She just knew that while they had fixed one problem today, they still were nowhere near fixing things with his parents. "...I don't want-"

"Hermione," Harry said suddenly, interrupting. There was a lot of that going around. "Why don't you side-along Ginny back to Grimmauld Place. Draco can bring me."

Hermione blinked, her mouth falling open slightly. Was this Harry's not-so-subtle way of telling her to leave?

Draco probably did need to talk to his parents on his own. There was nothing she could do to help- she only ever made everyone angry, it seemed.

"Sure..." she muttered, and Draco reached up and gave the hand on his arm a light squeeze before she let go.

"You boys play nice!" Ginny said, pointing from Draco to Harry. She glanced up at the angry Lucius, but didn't take her playing quite far enough to point at _him_. "I don't want to hear any, 'Oh, my wand slipped!' and someone comes back a rat, or a ferret, or a Gucci handbag. Although, hint hint for Christmas, Harry."

...

Once the girls were gone, Hermione somewhat reluctantly agreeing to apparate away, everything was suddenly very quiet. At a calm and composed request from his mother, who seemed to be working hard to pull herself back together after her outburst, the four of them went to his mother's parlor... for the third time that day. Draco found himself hating the floral sofa pattern more than ever as he sat down on it _again_, the scent of rose water drifting up from the stiff uncomfortable cushions.

Lucius Malfoy was standing with his back to the room, an imposing figure at the now-repaired window, surveying the garden. There was a time that Draco would have admired and even wanted to emulate his father's stoic, yet dangerous, nature. He was everything a dignified pure blood should be: stubborn, steadfast, opportunistic, calculating, and powerful.

One thing he was not was forgiving. Or understanding. Not even for his own family.

That, too, was part of being a proud member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, wasn't it? To never relent, never let the bloodline break. His father thought he was doing his duty, and who could fault him for doing what he had always been taught was right? Draco, too, used to think the same way, afterall.

Of all the women he could have fallen for, he had chosen the one that broke all the rules he had been raised with. How could he ever expect his father to understand?

"I understand," Draco said, finally ending the long train of polite chit-chat from him mother. The "Let's have a house elf bring some tea" and "Mr. Potter, would you care for some cream? Sugar?"

"It's not your fault, father," Draco continued, earning him a rather confused glance from Harry. Who was sitting next to him. How weird was that? "You don't owe me anything. I was so used to expecting this house, the money, the status, that I forgot it wasn't really mine. I'm going to find things that _are_ mine. So, I want you to know that I'm not... not really angry with you for this." He was speaking both lies and truths to his father's back. It was true that he understood that he shouldn't be angry- not about the chance of disinheritance, not about being kicked out of the house... but in fact, he _was_ angry with his father. For talking so cruelly to Hermione. For wishing her dead, just so things could go his own way.

His father was the kind of man who could wish someone dead because it was _easier_.

Draco decided that that was neither here nor there, though. If they were lucky, his father and Hermione would never have to see each other again. That, of course, was up to his father. Still, it was something of a comfort to accept as a possibility.

"Draco..." his mother said, eyes flicking nervously up to his father's still form, "that's just... just madness! You are our son. What is the point of all of this," she waved her hands around, indicating the room, the mansion, everything, "if not for you?"

Draco shook his head. He made a conscious effort not to look at Harry- he didn't want to know what the other boy was making of this. He suspected he was pretty uncomfortable. "That's not true. This is all here for the good son who plays the part and does what he's told. It's not a given, it's a reward. And I suppose I didn't earn it. I just... I don't want this to stress you out, mother. And I don't want you to be so angry, father." Draco wasn't sure if anything he said could assuage the latter problem, but he decided to wing it. "So I'm leaving, but you're welcome to come see me. You're welcome to keep sending an unreasonable amount of letters, too," he added, and to his surprise the corners of his mother's lips turned up into a real and actual smile. He felt like it had been too long since he had seen that.

Lucius sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. It was hard enough to tell what his father was thinking when facing him, but it was impossible with only a view of his back silhouetted against the window.

"Do what you want," he said finally, a sentence which could either be construed as conceding defeat... or a dismissal of his son forever. It was annoying to Draco, now, not being able to tell what his father was feeling and thinking. Seeing only his stupid broad back instead of his eyes, the eyes that were exactly like Draco's own.

"I will," Draco agreed, standing up from the sofa. Harry stood up quickly too, probably only too excited to leave. Before he turned to the door, Draco looked to his mother one more time. He had to reiterate his point. He had to make her understand... especially after all he had seen that day. "You're not going to lose me, mother. Even if I'm disinherited, even if father can never forgive me, and even if you decide you can't stand my choices in life. I'm still your son, no matter what."

His mother's eyes were looking a little too wet yet again, but this time Draco had a feeling she was genuinely happy with him and his words. He decided it was probably best to get out of there before things got any more sappy than they already had, and so he turned on his heel and walked away with a quick goodbye, Harry keeping close.

It seemed a little rude to apparate just then, and Draco felt like he needed to clear his head before returning to his wife. The boys walked out of the Manor the traditional way, heading for the front gates.

"That was... unexpected," Harry said.

"Stop talking," Draco immediately countered.

"No, it was good, Draco."

"Yeah, I've gone through a miraculous transformation. I'm the reformed hero, a poet, a misunderstood bad-boy, a poor disinherited rich kid. I know. I'm pretty great. Now stop talking Harry."

Harry did stop talking, thankfully, but every once in a while Draco caught him flashing him an admiring look of approval, like he was a new kind of chocolate frog card. He did his best to ignore it, walking dutifully out and away from the Manor.

...

_A/N: The end, but there will be an epilogue! Lots of loose ends cleared up, hopefully!_

_A/N Part 3: If anyone is interested in my attempt at a dating sim, just check my profile. I'll update on there every once in a while. I'll probably be looking for betas at some point, mostly because it's written in first person and I am like wicked bad at that. If you want to be personally notified when it is finished, send me a PM and I'll respond when it's done! I expect to be working on it for the next year or so, honestly. It's a lot of work, like writing the same fanfic from a billion different perspectives. I'm already getting burnt out on drawing the characters... there's only so many times you can shade the exact same black school robes before you start to go crazy!  
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	51. Chapter 51

_A/N:_

_***I went through once more and found a BUNCH of mistakes that I definitely fixed on one of my run-thoroughs... which must mean I forgot to save at some point! Sorry guys! Krum, Fred, and various misspellings have been fixed.***_

_This is the end! I hope you all enjoyed the story! I think it's never possible to please everyone with endings, and I really, REALLY hate writing them. I tried to tie up loose ends and still leave things a little bit "aww." Honestly, I probably went a little overboard, since this is as long as a regular chapter, anyways! Longer, even! XD_

_A few things to clear up from reviewers._

_As far as the baby goes, I never imagined it was an actual ghost. They were both just manifestations of the horcrux meant to catch Hermione's attention. The horcrux wanted to be found so it could try and kill Narcissa. It was a much less covert-I wanna-live-forever kind of horcrux. Living forever is very nice if you're as powerful as Voldemort, but if you're stuck in Azkaban with a bunch of dementors for decades it's not very nice, is it?_

_Which brings me to another thing pointed out to me: That Voldemort's body was destroyed, and so if Fortune died her body would still be gone, but the Horcrux would act as a second part of her. For this story, we're operating on the premise that as long as the Horcrux survives, her body cannot die. At least, not by the dementors in Azkaban. I feel like horcruxes can work in unique, (timey wimey?) ways, and for this story dementors just can't kill her as long as the Horcrux lives._

**Epilogue**

"Whoa," Ginny said, reaching up and pulling a card down from the wall without bothering to ask. Draco managed to hide his twinge of annoyance- he shouldn't be annoyed or surprised at the red-head's rudeness at this point... especially since he didn't really want the cards up on the wall in the first place.

It had been Hermione's idea, and while he really couldn't comprehend why she found such joy in displaying each holiday card carefully on the wall above the sofa, he knew better than to try and stop her. If it made her happy, he'd suffer all the holiday cheer and tacky decorations she could muster. As it was, their house already looked like a freaking gingerbread house- green and red décor filling the place both inside and out. She'd even charmed the wallpaper to display little reindeer, the images flying around at super-slow speeds back and forth on a cheery candy-floss colored backdrop.

When the first Christmas card had been delivered- by a postman, mind you, not by a proper owl- his overly-festive wife had absolutely squealed with delight. It was like she had never seen a Christmas greeting before in her life, and she had turned to him with eyes twinkling like a Grindylow spying dinner.

"Look!" she had exclaimed, hopping from foot to foot. "Look at what it _says_, Draco!"

It said, "Merry Christmas." Not very surprising. It also had a short message from her parents, whom they would be visiting Christmas morning. Christmas evening was reserved for a party at Malfoy Manor, which was probably going to be very grand... and very boring. Draco hoped his father and Hermione would stay at opposite ends of the room, since he doubted the cheerful holiday spirit had exactly infected his stubborn father.

No, the reason Hermione was so damn excited was that the card had been addressed to them both. Just their first names, but used in succession.

The next card, a rather formal-looking thing from Pansy, had listed their last names. Well, being the properly-raised witch that she was, Pansy had addressed it "To Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy," which Draco thought would irritate his modern-thinking wife but instead just seemed to encourage her holiday spirit. She had stuck it on the wall right next to the one from her parents, looking rather proud.

It had only grown from there.

And now, on Christmas Eve, Draco sat in a room that was filled with assorted Gryffindors. And it was only going to get worse- Hermione had invited quite a few stragglers to her little Christmas Eve party, much to Draco's chagrin. He would have preferred a night alone with Hermione.

Ginny was the first to notice Hermione's little card-shrine, and the first thing she saw was the card from Pansy.

"Parkinson had her baby!" Ginny said, pointing out the obvious. The Christmas Card from Pansy had the simplicity and formality of an obligatory holiday greeting, complete with a straight-backed family photo of Pansy, Pietro, and their newborn daughter. The girl was barely two weeks old, and Pansy had already stuffed her in designer robes, the maker's label clearly visible as a symbol on the hem. Pansy herself looked much improved- her move overseas had apparently done a lot to relax her nerves, and it was no doubt nice being able to leave her house without worrying about running into her parents.

"Her name is Cassiopeia!" Hermione said, smiling wide as she came in from the kitchen carrying a tray loaded with Christmas cookies. On top of decorating, she had been baking a lot lately too. A lot a lot. The muggle way.

"Of course it is," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

Draco might have found it nice having a house that smelled perpetually like cookies, if his wife's enthusiasm for the holiday wasn't eating up all her free time lately. He liked brewing potions with her, and cooking might be something similar to that...but Draco Malfoy was not a... _kitchen_ person. House elves belonged in kitchens. Though, of course, when he had said this to Hermione it had started a rather messy argument that he did _not_ want to revisit.

She had been trying to turn his mind about house elves lately, too, which he knew was inevitable since he started this relationship with her. She was a crazy, house-elf-loving, muggle-baking, card-keeping pack rat... and he loved her.

He loved her brand of crazy, and even though he complained he really couldn't get enough of it.

"Merlin- Hermione, did you actually _make_ these cookies?" Ron asked, adopting an expression that was a little too close to alarm as he bit the head off a gingerbread man.

"Yes, I did, Ron. Why do you look so surprised?" Hermione's smile looked a little forced, like she knew exactly what her stupid friend was going to say. Draco almost pitied the Weasel for being dumb enough to actually answer her truthfully.

"Well, you never were much of a cook before, you know. Your cooking nearly killed us when we were living out in the woods..."

"You unbelievable git! We didn't have any _food_ to cook!"

Harry started laughing, throwing Draco a strangely conspiratorial grin. "I think Hermione will never let us forget that we made her do all the cooking that year, Ron. She took out her wrath on us for the same reason when we visited Draco's villa."

"Ungrateful... boys!" Hermione huffed, hands on her hips despite the amused smirk on her face. As she stepped back towards the kitchen, she passed a little closer to Ron than was necessary, giving him a good smack to the back of his head as she went.

Ginny, apparently ignoring the conversation, suddenly burst into laughter. She was still holding Pansy's card, reading the contents with glee. She looked up at Draco, pointing at the card. "Is she serious?"

Draco nodded, rolling his eyes. "Pansy's always serious," he answered, the corner of his mouth curling up as he recalled the contents of the card. "She just has a very... colorful way of expressing herself."

"My Dear Fellow Blood-Traitor Friend, Draco..." Ginny began, and Ron jumped a little, looking a bit shocked at Parkinson's bluntness. Harry didn't seem surprised- he actually looked a little amused. "Since we're both likely off our respective family's Christmas Card list, I decided to take pity on you and send this. I suppose we could say this card is for your annoying Gryffindor-virgin wife, too, if we must." Ginny took the time to snort, and it seemed that it was a struggle for her to continue reading past her giggles. "This is my daughter, Cassiopeia. No nicknames will be acceptable. I've decided you're her godfather, since I don't exactly have a lot of alternative options. All the best, your best friend, Pans."

Though this was Hermione's party, she had actually invited Pansy, too. However, Draco's friend had declined the invitation- she just lived too far away, now. It was too much trouble to come, especially after just having a baby. Draco suspected visits from Pansy to England would be rare... too much risk of seeing her parents. Still too much pain, there.

And so, Draco was stuck with Harry, Ginny, and Ron while they waited for other guests to arrive. Ron's wife had left for a seminar in California- Draco had the sneaking suspicion that things weren't going too well in the ginger boy's marriage. Not that he cared.

The Marriage Law had been dissolved months ago, a resounding failure of the Ministry. They still never found half of the missing persons- Terry Boot and Daphne Greengrass were still gone. Daphne had never seemed like the violent sort to Draco, so he wondered if she was also in some kind of trouble, or if the two had simply ran away together. It was nice to imagine a happy ending instead... the alternative.

The lack of a Law forcing Hermione's friend into his marriage with the Hufflepuff seemed to have put a strain on them both. Ron had been back in the country for all of December, and Hermione had noted that she hadn't once seen the girl. Draco, who had made a steadfast effort to avoid hanging around Hermione's annoying friends, had no real opinion on the matter. He only knew that his wife was worried about the moron, so Draco was trying his best to play nice at the party.

It didn't help that the first thing the Weasel had said to him when he arrived was, "Oh, you're _still_ here?" as if expecting to find Hermione had suddenly had a change of heart and kicked him out. He decided to take it as a joke, though he really would have rather pulled his wand and turned the git's head into a pumpkin.

"She's a sweet girl," Hermione remarked flatly, obviously able to hear Ginny read Pansy's card from the next room. She came back in, carrying a tray of hot cocoa like some kind of house elf. Draco knew better than to comment on the way his wife was flitting about, making sure the party was perfect for their guests. Hermione had made it quite clear that this was their first Christmas together, and their first Christmas in their own home, so she wanted everything to be perfect. Draco hadn't realize how easily she could apply her academic-preparedness to party planning.

"So it's true then?" Ron asked, looking back and forth between Ginny and Hermione. "What she said in the letter? Malfoy's family cut him off?"

Draco bit his tongue in an effort to cut off the retort he had in mind on being completely ignored by Hermione's friend. Ginny, at least, had the decency to look a bit irate, frowning at her brother. "Draco's could answer that himself, Ron. You could just ask him. He's the bloke sitting across from you? The obvious scowling blond Slytherin?"

Ron turned a little red, his eyes flashing back towards Draco. It seemed he was doing his best to pretend Draco wasn't in the room, which seemed like a very Weasley way of handling the situation. No, that wasn't fair. He rather liked Ginny by this point, so he couldn't actually attribute the rudeness to Weasley's in general.

"I only meant... well, fine. _Draco_, then. Is it true?" Ron asked, this time addressing Draco directly... though he seemed very uncomfortable doing so. And why not? The only other interaction they had had since he became Hermione's boyfriend was Ginny's birthday party. Draco could now tolerate two- and only two- of Hermione's friends. It would be a while before the Weasel could join that list. Especially if he continued to pretend Draco didn't exist.

"No, for your information, it is _not_ true," Draco answered, a touch more biting than he intended. Hermione handed him a cup of hot chocolate wordlessly, but the look she gave him was somehow both apologetic and reprimanding. He was reminded of the time when they had all met in the Room of Requirement to discuss the problem of Theodore Nott. Hermione didn't seem particularly pleased with their bickering back then, and she wasn't pleased now. Draco sighed. "Not that it's really your business, _Ron_," he began, the name still feeling foreign on his tongue, "but my Gringott's key was returned to me. I'm not... my situation is different from Pansy's."

He still wasn't sure why or how, but it was. By some miracle, his father had sent him his key shortly after the events at Malfoy Manor- after Draco had declared his independence as concisely as possible. There had been a card attached, which had simply said, "For your use only."

The implication was to not use the money on Hermione, though surely his father knew that was an empty and meaningless demand to make. Lucius had no power over how he spent the money, only whether he had it or not. This was the closest thing he might ever get to a reconciliation with his father, but he would take what he could get.

It was the main reason he had agreed to go to the Christmas Ball tomorrow night. His mother had assured him that his father had forgiven him, though he was fairly certain she was bending the truth a little. How could Draco be forgiven for something he didn't need forgiveness for? Draco wasn't sorry, and his father wasn't either. They were of opposing opinions when it came to Hermione, and they always would be.

But it was still good to know that his father cared about him. Lucius had tracked him down when his mother had been worried about the Horcrux. He had given back his key so Draco could live comfortably. He had agreed to be in the same room as Draco and Hermione during a Christmas Ball tomorrow night. Maybe there was hope.

"We're even going to a Christmas Ball at the Manor tomorrow," Hermione informed them, her voice still forcefully cheerful despite the underlying tension between her husband and friend.

"And Lucius will be there?" Harry asked, sounding shocked. Draco was surprised Hermione hadn't told all of her friends about the Ball beforehand- it seemed like the kind of thing she and Ginny would gossip about.

Hermione sat down next to Draco, flashing him a curious look. "I... think so."

"Of course," Draco answered, frowning at his wife. "My father couldn't very well sit out a party in his own home, now could he? Mother would throw a fit."

Hermione, to Draco's surprise, grinned in response. "Narcissa does seem to have a way of controlling the situation to her advantage, huh?" Hermione turned to Ginny. "She even sent me new dress robes for the ball as a "Christmas present." Like I can't dress myself."

"I think she's actually trying to be nice," Draco muttered, and Hermione nodded, albeit a little hesitantly.

"In a way, I suppose she is."

There was a knock at the front door, and Hermione popped up off the couch in an instant, running to open it. Draco knew everyone she had invited, but his stomach rolled a little when he heard a rather bumbling voice saying, "Hermione! Oh, I thought I had the wrong address. I did at first, you see... er, but I found the place!"

He was followed by a softer, lilting voice. "I found Neville here wandering in the snow up the street. I suspect this location is overrun by Mulots, which can make apparating accurately a struggle."

Longbottom. Draco hadn't even been aware that she was close with the boy. She had called it "something of a DA reunion," which should have clued Draco in on her guest-list from the early stages of party planning.

Draco did recall that Longbottom had been the one to kill the Dark Lord's snake, which Hermione had recently informed him was very fortunate indeed- Nagini had been a Horcrux. One of seven, in fact, which still floored Draco since they had had such trouble with just one. However, the honorable act didn't make Longbottom less of a... Longbottom, as far as Draco was concerned. He rolled his eyes at the witch's comment about apparating difficulties- a feeble excuse.

He assumed the witch in question was the blond girl from the DA, and when the two were ushered into the room by Hermione he found that his assumption was correct. Loony Lovegood. In his home. What a strange world this was.

"Hello Harry. Hello Ron. Hello Draco. Hello Ginny," the flighty, soft-voiced girl said as she seemed to drift into the room, gazing at the ornaments on the tree dreamily before finally taking a seat on the floor next to it instead of all the empty seats in the room.

Draco was a little off-put that she had included him in her little greeting- and used his given name to boot. He wasn't aware of ever having spoken more than two words to her in his whole time at Hogwarts. Hermione certainly had strange and varied tastes in friends.

To that note, Longbottom was looking around the room awkwardly, greeting his Gryffindor friends and finally, awkwardly, nodding towards Draco. That was more the reaction he expected.

Lovegood gestured for Longbottom to sit next to her her, patting the carpet. He compromised by taking a seat at one of the dining room chairs near the tree that Hermione had moved into the room for the occasion.

"So, tell me," Ginny began, grinning from ear to ear after they all said their greetings, "how was your trip? What did you see? I heard you were looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks in Sweden... or was it Umbungular Slashkilters in Uganda?"

Draco wasn't certain the conversation was being held in English, anymore.

Lovegood smiled her usual, tiny half-focused smile and answered, "Both actually. I traveled to many places."

"I went to Egypt!" Ron blurted excitedly.

"That's nice Ron," Lovegood answered with a tilt of her head.

"But not to escape the Marriage Law... that's what you did, right?"

Lovegood nodded, at the same time that Hermione shook her head.

"Ron," Hermione admonished, and Draco recognized her know-it-all voice. It might have annoyed him before, but now it just made him smirk at the poor boy it was directed towards, "Luna told us before that the Law didn't affect her. She's not pure-blood! You're one of the people I would assume knew that!"

Ron shrugged, looked unaffected. "My listening skills aside, why did you travel, then?"

Luna looked up at Hermione serenely, shaking her head. "I did escape the Law, in a way, Hermione." Then, inexplicably, she turned her cloudy-blue eyes to Draco and smiled. It unnerved him, and he sat up a little straighter. "We can't all have been so lucky, to be matched with our soul-mates. Some of us had to watch them be with someone else." She looked down to the carpet, and for the first time there was a small downward turn of her thin lips. "And some of us couldn't."

Despite his adamant convictions about only "barely tolerating" Hermione's friends, he found himself a little bit curious. Who had Lovegood lost, thanks to the fumbling Ministry? And did she seriously just use the word "_soul-mates_" to describe him and Hermione? She was so hopelessly weird, but oddly Draco decided he could understand why Hermione liked her.

They didn't ask about their friend Neville. Hermione had already told Draco that Longbottom had married a muggle-born girl a few years older than them, and they had promptly divorced after the Law was dissolved. It was a touchy subject, and Draco was told not to talk to Longbottom about it. Like he would.

The next round of guests included a few Weasleys (Draco couldn't reasonably be expected to keep them all straight), and... Viktor Krum?

Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Quidditch Star?

Viktor Krum, the guy who took Hermione to the Yule Ball?

Across the room, Ron's eyes bugged out a little at the big dark-haired man's entrance. Then the ginger boy turned to Draco, flashing him a very disconcerting smug little smirk. Draco felt his eyebrow twitch, but otherwise tried to wipe away any surprise from his face. Hermione must have told him Crumb was coming, and he hadn't listened. That'll teach him to tune her out.

"Look, everybody! Viktor was in the country, so he was able to make it afterall!" She sounded a little forced, leading him into the room with everyone, her Christmas-cheer-veneer cracking just a bit. She shot Ron a sharp look Draco didn't understand, and sat Krum near Longbottom.

One of the Weasleys, George, had brought butterbeer and joke-shop Christmas crackers, to which everyone cheered. As the mildly-alcoholic drink was passed around, it seemed to have an almost psychological calming effect. Everyone appeared much more at ease, and the party began in earnest. Everyone started chattering away about one thing or another, and a couple people started pulling crackers from the joke shop.

At some point in the party, Hermione's enormous cat came poking around, pawing at the gifts under the tree as if it just liked the crinkling sound they produced. Luna pulled the creature into her lap, an action which usually ended in angry cat-violence... but Crookshanks tolerated her, lying down and purring. Lovegood must be good with animals. It would explain why she had spent two seasons out looking for... what were the creatures called again? Were they made up? He was never good at Care of Magical Creatures or Defense class, so maybe he just didn't remember them.

Draco was not a big fan of parties. Especially parties where people where packed like sardines in a small living room, where everyone were great friends and he was just kind of... there.

Hermione finally sat down, nudging him with her shoulder. "Hey, stop pouting."

"I... I am not pouting! I don't pout!"

"Well... then what are you thinking about?" she asked, smoothing down the fabric of her robes on her lap and chewing at her bottom lip.

Draco blinked. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm just wondering how long Longbottom can last talking about Quidditch with the big guy next to him. He's looking more confused by the minute. Never struck me as the athletic sort, that Longbottom."

Hermione rolled her eyes, then shot Draco her first legitimate smile of the evening. She had been playing at cheerful, but really she'd been stressing out about her party all evening. She leaned against him, and Draco felt his heart give a funny little skip. He liked when only he could make her smile like that.

"I have to admit," she began, speaking in a very low voice only he could hear, "I was a little worried. We have Ron, Krumb, and you in a room together. I half-expected a childish argument to break out by now." Her shoulders shook in a brief chuckle, "That's usually how these things go."

Draco snorted. "Please. I'm not insecure enough to pick a fight with these losers. I'm the one who's rich with a hot wife, here."

Hermione laughed out loud that time, her loud burst bringing the attention of the room straight to them. Ginny smirked. "Care to share the joke?"

"Why? It might be at your lot's expense, you know," Draco answered quickly.

"Impossible," Mrs. Potter replied smoothly, "We are a room of absolute gems, here. Not a flaw to be found."

Harry affixed his wife with an incredulous look. "Well, except for the bad jokes, repressed childhood trauma, scars, tattoos, and joblessness." As he said the last, he shot Draco a smile that only some would recognize for what it was- a challenge. The last was definitely a dig at him.

"See," he said to Hermione, but obviously speaking to the room at large, "the real snottiness comes out when people are jealous of my vast wealth."

Hermione hit his shoulder, still shaking with the efforts to suppress her laughter.

Harry made to cough into his hand, but it wasn't hard to hear the badly-disguised insult, "Lazy."

"Damn straight!" Draco answered with a smirk. "I'm entitled to be. I'm more of a "trophy-husband," as you can clearly see, anyways."

Now almost everyone laughed, and Draco was reminded that he was not in a room with just his wife and the Potters. He had gotten used to being himself around the other couple, probably due to the fact that he and Ginny had oddly similar senses of humor. However, remembering the awkward newcomers to the party, he instantly deflated, the grin wiping from his face. He didn't need to make these other people laugh, especially at his expense.

He added a scowl for good measure as he looked towards Ron. The boy's face was twisted strangely, like he wasn't sure if he should laugh or not.

"In all seriousness," Hermione added, speaking to Harry, "Draco's waiting to hear back from a couple of positions with the Ministry."

He was fairly certain he wouldn't get either of them. He had quit his internship, and while his reputation had reached a fairly "neutral" stage as far as prophet articles and his family name went, he didn't have the experience to get the positions he applied for. He didn't want to let on how much it still bothered him, Hermione working her tail off all day while he, essentially, just waited for her to come home. He had been talked into doing a little cleaning now and then, since Hermione refused to keep house elves in their home, but he made sure to grumble about it as often as possible.

He needed a job. Not for the money... just for his own pride.

"Hey, if you need a famous hero's recommendation," Harry said, clearly half kidding.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I would rather eat Ashwinder eggs, but thanks bunches, Harry."

"There are people who would pay to see that!" George called from the other side of the room. "You could go into carnival work, Malfoy!"

Draco sneered. "Only if Weasleys were part of the freak show."

Ginny laughed loudly, which was good, because the two jibes hadn't been 100% playful. Draco felt a little tense, being casually insulted by the joke shop owner. He was particularly defensive against this one particular Weasley, probably because he had been forced to accept his charity for a good two months before Hermione and he had moved out of the apartment. They had paid next to nothing in rent, and he was certain that was because of Hermione.

She said that since they paid rent, it wasn't charity. Both Draco and George, however, seemed to understand that that was bunk.

On the first of December, Hermione and Draco had bought and moved into their modest little house in a village near enough to London that the commute to Diagon Alley was short for Hermione. Well, relatively speaking, for a witch. It wasn't some hovel like the Burrow, but it wasn't exactly what you could call a Manor, either. Hermione had declared it "cozy" when they first saw it advertised in the Prophet, and he could hear the fondness in her voice for the place. She had dragged him in to look around, pointing to certain places where she could imagine certain events or items being placed. The house had two floors, a decent sized sitting area, a large kitchen (which Draco couldn't imagine them needing. He couldn't even remembering being _in_ a kitchen before marrying Hermione), three bathrooms, and several bedrooms... for guests.

Though, she had hesitated when she said "guests." It was an odd kind of hesitation, and Draco wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I wouldn't have a problem, you know, if you wanted to have guests over. Even if they were annoying hero-types." Draco had said as a way of fishing.

Hermione had shook her head. "No, I didn't mean to imply... I just meant, maybe... well, one day it could be good to have extra rooms for our family, you know. One day. In the future."

Her meaning sunk in pretty quick, and his heart thumped in a very funny, heavy way. She meant if their family... grew, in the future. She meant children. So she wasn't opposed to children in general, then, some day.

He bought the house immediately.

"So," began a voice Draco had not yet heard that evening, "I had heard your marriage vas most unfortunate Hermionini. I am happy it was not true. I was tempted to find you and bring you back to Bulgaria when I first heard the news," the professional Quidditch play stated bluntly. Draco wondered, briefly, if Hermione would have taken him up on his offer. She might have, if it wasn't for her constant vigilance in her studies. The only reason she didn't run away was because she valued her magical education so much. And the reason Draco didn't run away was... what?

Why had he stayed during the advent of the Marriage Law? Was it to save face for his family? Or maybe, really, he wanted to follow through and protect the know-it-all muggle born who he had never liked. If he hadn't stayed, they never would have discovered their feelings for each other. And if he hadn't stayed, she might have been forced to pick Nott from her short list of suitors. The thought put Draco in a rather dark mood.

Hermione smiled, but it looked a little awkward. "I thought of leaving the country myself, but there was just too much for me to lose. Plus," she added, tilting her head towards Draco, "I wasn't scared of this punk. I figured I could take him if it came down to it."

Draco snorted, grinning down at his wife. "Yeah, because you cheat."

"I won that duel, Draco."

"Cheater."

"You asking for a rematch?"

"No, ma'am." Though honestly, if they were alone he might have taken her up on that. There was nothing sexier than Hermione when she was concentrating on her magic. She didn't like dueling, but she looked damn good doing it.

"So... this is alvight, thin?" Krum continued, looking between them a little worriedly. Apparently the stony-gazed man didn't know playful banter when he heard it.

"Yes, Viktor. Everything's just fine." Hermione said placatingly, then suddenly stood up as a loud "ding!" rang through the room. "Oh! That would be the snickerdoodles!"

"Hermione, there are more cookies here than even Ron could eat!" Harry said, to the indignant "Hey!" from his friend.

Ron was halfway through one cookie, another in his fist as he cried out. Looking down at his hand, he added sheepishly, "Okay, fair point, and yeah what's up with all the cookies Hermione?"

"I don't have to justify my hobbies to you two! I have to get them out before they burn!" And with that, she once again ran out of the room.

"Hobbies? She has a baking hobby now?" Ginny asked Draco.

"They say potion making started in the kitchen." Lovegood cut in, grabbing another sugar cookie off the table and just appraising the thing instead of eating it like it was a damn bauble.

Draco rolled his eyes. "She's been trying to prove why we don't need house elves, I think, cooking all the time. Plus she's lost her mind over Christmas. I'll be back." He stood, following his wife out of the sitting room and into their modest-sized, spotless kitchen.

Hermione was rushing to shove her hands into two large, oversized gloves, which to Draco just looked ridiculous. Why not just cast a heat-repellent charm? Not only was his wife insistent on cooking, she often did so in a mind-bogglingly muggle way. Which wasn't a bad thing... just a little curious.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, her uncharacteristic swearing bringing Draco's focus to her face. He smirked, her annoyance oddly appealing, and came up behind her. She turned towards him, throwing her cookie tray down on the counter with a clatter. "Now I'll have to hear more jokes about my cooking from Ron- I burned them."

Draco leaned over, placing his hands on the linoleum counter on either side of Hermione, effectively trapping her. "Or, you could just blame me. Say I distracted you. We need to add some credibility to the story though- how about we stay here in the kitchen and snog a while?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, putting her gloved-hands on his chest in an effort to push him gently away- but he wasn't going to make it that easy.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "I think I could use this holiday obsession of yours to my advantage."

"Oh, how so?" she asked, completely rising to his bait.

He smirked, and he judged it must have looked a little wicked based on the suspicious narrowing of Hermione's eyes. "Mistletoe," he said, pointing upward. Before Hermione could even look up he lunged, claiming her lips as one of his hands rose to plunge into her hair. It was growing out, slowly yet surely, and looked less wild these days. She had spent a lot of time smoothing it out for the party, and he had the nearly uncontrollable urge to mess it up again.

Their kiss was short lived, despite Draco trying to coax her into making it last. She cocked an eyebrow when she pulled away, pointing one slender finger to the ceiling after removing her gloves. "Now, I know I didn't put mistletoe in the _kitchen_."

"I moved it to a more covert location."

"I see." She leaned forward, arms wrapping around his neck as she placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "If you play nice for the rest of the evening, I promise I'll fall for all your tricks tonight, okay?"

He smirked once again, keeping her close with his hands firmly pressed into the skin of her hips, slightly under her ridiculous reindeer sweater. "I'm going to hold you to that, you know."

She slipped away, despite Draco's clever entrapment with his arms, and began working over the cookies with her wand. Draco couldn't believe that she actually knew a spell to unburn cookies, but apparently she did. When did she become such a home-maker witch? Then again, she was naturally good at anything she applied herself to, so why not. She grinned in triumph, displaying the cookie tray for Draco.

"Ta-dah!"

"Ta-dah?"

"It's something muggles say after a magic trick. You're expected to "Oooh" and "Ahhh" now."

Draco rolled his eyes, and Hermione didn't wait for an answer before bringing the tray of perfect-looking cookies out to her guests.

"Holy crap- warm cookies!" he could hear emanating from the living room. It sounded like Ginny, and was quickly followed by the sound of gagging. Draco poked his head in the room to see what brought on such a fit and had to forcibly contain his laughter at the sight of Ginny's face, the green a very clear contrast to her bright red hair. "This," she started, using a napkin to stealthily eradicate any trace of cookie from her tongue, "tastes very, er, pleasantly of anchovies, Hermione."

Apparently the un-burning charm was a work in progress.

...

They were finally leaving. Gifts had been exchanged, the plethora of shiny parcels Hermione had piled under the tree divied up and opened. Even Draco had received gifts- a horrible green sweater from Ginny and Harry, which he suspected was some kind of joke. It even had a large "D" on the front, and Ginny explained that she had been learning how to knit from her mother. One sleeve was longer than the other, and while Draco vowed he would never actually wear the thing he did appreciate the sentiment and thanked them both gruffly.

Hermione had bought him a very rare edition of "Potions and Notions: Greatest Minds of the Fifth Century." He knew she meant well- it seemed she had bought books for everyone, and his book was much bigger and rarer than the others. He managed to sound surprised and grateful, even though he was a little worried she would test him on the material inside in the coming months, and he was not a big fan of history novels.

Harry and Ginny were the last to leave, the night cold and pitch black beyond the glass of the front door. They lived in a rather rural area, away from street lamps or even the electric one's muggles employed. Obviously, Draco had demanded they place protective spells around their property, despite the fact that they shouldn't have any more enemies trying to kill them. Safety first. Hence, all of their guests had to leave the house to apparate away.

Harry paused after hugging Hermione and saying his goodbye, turning towards Draco. For a brief, uncomfortable moment, Draco suspected the boy meant to hug him, too. Harry had an oddly hesitant look on his face that seem to suggest he was working up what exactly to say, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"You want to shake hands goodbye, Potter?" Sometimes he still liked to use the hero's surname- just to keep him on his toes.

"Er, no, that's not it. It's just, uh..."

"Go ahead and fork it over, Harry!" Ginny muttered, elbowing her husband in the ribs playfully as she adjusted her winter cloak. She sighed heavily, flashing both Draco and Hermione uninterpretable looks.

Harry produced a rolled newspaper from his pocket- a pocket that seemed much too small to be holding the cumbersome Daily Prophet. The bespeckled boy sighed, holding it out for Draco. "Apparently," he started, adjusting his glasses with a finger to his nose, "I can, under the jurisdiction of the Aurors, now pull rank on the Prophet and demand early copies. You know, if the story relates to a... a case."

"A case?" Hermione queried, looking over at the circled article Draco was pouring over.

It said, "Longest Living Resident of Azkaban Prison Dies Suddenly."

Obviously, it didn't make the front page. It was a blurb, really, the paper folded back so Harry could show them it clearly. No one cared about a prisoner that wasn't a Death Eater.

The photo, however, was clearly Franny Fortune's, taken at the time of her incarceration. Her Horcrux was gone, and there was nothing tethering her to life in this world. The Dementors had finally worn her down to nothing, and she was gone.

"Well," said Hermione with a little sigh, "that's cheery."

"Yeah, we didn't want to spoil the party, but we thought you'd both want to know," Ginny said, looping her arm around her husbands.

Draco nodded. It was good to know, and at the same time, it didn't really matter much. He expected it would give his mother some closure, though he certainly hoped she wouldn't read the article until after the Manor Christmas Ball tomorrow. "When does it come out?"

"It's the morning paper," Harry muttered, "So I guess I didn't really give you much of a heads-up."

"No, it was thoughtful of you to let us know." Hermione said, "We should be extra delicate around Narcissa tomorrow, I think. She might be angry, or sad, or... well, who knows how she'll take the news?" She was looking at Draco now, but he really didn't know either. To him, it certainly felt like "The End" of that terrible history, which really was a rather nice Christmas present.

Not cheery. But necessary.

...

They said their goodbyes one more time to their last guests, and Harry really did shake Draco's hand this time. When they left, Hermione pulled the Prophet out of Draco's hands, reading the article multiple times as she usually did. Call it a compulsion, but she liked to be sure she got all the facts straight.

They both made their way to the living room, Hermione not even looking up from the paper as she plopped back down on the sofa.

"Ah-hem?" Draco tried, grabbing the top edge of the newspaper and drooping it down. He had crouched down in front of her, but the newspaper had to be removed for her to see his face.

Hermione blinked, her eyes focusing on his beyond the top edge of the paper. "What... what are you doing, Draco?"

"You said you'd fall for my tricks tonight- play along."

Her jaw dropped. She set the paper down on her lap, her eyes growing wide.

"There, see? Was it so hard to look surprised?"

"I am surprised."

"Oh. Good. I didn't think I'd be able to get anything past you, and I've been hiding this box for weeks, and I was so sure you had found it last Thursday..."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Ruining the moment, just a little bit."

Draco was indeed planted in front of her as she sat on the sofa, but he was also holding out a small blue box, a neat little ring glittering in clear view. It wasn't too big or extravagant- he must have guessed she wouldn't want to wear something like that. It was very simple, a gold band with a princess-cut diamond at the center. It was perfect, a million times better than the bland Ministry-distributed things they were still wearing. They had used the remover weeks ago on them to counteract the less savory magical binding aspects of the things, but had continued to wear them because... well, they were their wedding rings. It was an unspoken agreement between them that eventually they would get proper rings, but Hermione hadn't expected Draco to surprise her with one like this.

"In the interest of saving the moment, then, and maybe being a little bit romantic, I'm going to try this again." Draco said, clearing his throat. "Hermione?"

"Yes?" She said, fighting the urge to grin, or laugh, or cry, or a million other strange things running thorugh her mind.

"Will you marry me? Again?"

She had both expected this and... not expected this. "Marry you _again_?"

"That was the question."

He wanted to... to do it again? To do it right. She finally settled on a wide smile that seemed to make her eyes crunch up and tears leak out. She hadn't even known that that was exactly what she wanted, too, until he said it.

"Yes I will, Draco Malfoy. I'll marry you, and this time I won't even have thoughts of jumping out the window to escape."

"And I promise I won't hire that same old idiot to officiate."

"And this time Ginny can be there! She'll be so happy!"

Draco sighed theatrically as he slipped off her grey ring and replaced it with the delicate piece he had bought. "I suppose if I'm marrying you proper, your friends are part of the bargain."

She leaned down, kissing him softly. Their lips lingered, barely touching for a few seconds afterward as he added, "I really do love you Hermione..."

She nodded, not even realizing how close to the edge of the couch she was until she felt herself sliding off it and into Draco's arms. He held her, the ring box still clutched in his hand against her back. She was worried she might start crying in earnest, so she could only answer by nodding.

"... and I want everyone to know it."

...

**The End**


End file.
